


translations of the heart

by aryelee



Series: fragile little things [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Character Study, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Internalized Homophobia, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Suicide, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, but theyre either lesbians or grandpas so dont worry, general suffering tbh, got some ocs in there too, the long road to recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-26 03:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7558342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aryelee/pseuds/aryelee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's supposed to be perfect. Perfect means normal.</p><p>She does her best to hide the fact that she's not.</p><p>Chloe grows up, learns to stop fearing herself, and learns what it means to be human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to do a character study on chloe and it turned sad and gay like most of my stories
> 
> sorry take this trash away from me

She’s supposed to be perfect. Perfect means normal. Chloe’s managed to convince everyone, even herself, that she’s flawless.

Then Ladybug happens.

She’s thrown from the Eiffel Tower and the ground is getting closer. She puts her hands together as to pray and promises to be kinder should she make it out alive. Everything stops for a moment, and the cold wind is replaced with warmth.

When Chloe opens her eyes, she’s in Ladybug’s arms. 

“I didn’t swear,” she says for lack of anything else to say. She tries to hide her blushing, how flustered she’s become in Ladybug’s arms. The world seems to have stopped, and when Ladybug looks down at her, Chloe forgets how to breathe. Her eyes are very blue, Chloe notes. Her heart threatens to jackrabbit out of her chest when Ladybug says, “What?” and her voice is smooth, like water over stones, and Chloe wants to stay like that forever.

It hits her then that what she was feeling was more than just admiration. _ No _ , she thinks,  _ no I can’t be. That’s not right, I can’t be.  _

Ladybug leaves then, too focused on the akuma to notice Chloe’s soul shattering revelation, or the beginnings of her panic. Still, she can’t help but look after Ladybug’s retreating form, moving with effortless grace that would have made Chloe jealous if it didn’t captive her completely. 

Chloe wonders how long she can keep it a secret. How long she can deny it. She’s been denying it for years to herself, but this was too big to ignore. She stares blankly after Ladybug, eyes locked at the spot where she last saw the red-clad figure swing away. Her body was frozen, and she would have believed that her heart had stopped if it wasn’t for the blood roaring in her ears. Chloe stays there for a moment, then shakes herself out of it. She puts on her masks and acts as though nothing happened.

Things end quickly after that. The akuma is destroyed, the person freed of its clutches, and Chloe tries to put the incident out of her mind. Most of the time, she goes about as she normally would. But occasionally, she would slip up.

Everytime she catches herself staring after a girl and admiring how nice she looked, how gorgeous her smile was, how perfectly her hair fell around her face, Chloe would push those thoughts down, telling herself that it’s perfectly normal to think people are pretty; it doesn’t mean anything at all.

Everytime Sabina gets too excited and clings to her arms or, on the rare occasion, even hugs her, Chloe flinches away as though she’s been burned. The fact that she wants more, wants to hold and never let go, is just from being deprived of affection, she tells herself. Chloe’s father is too busy playing Mayor to spend time with her and her mother is dead. So when someone (specifically a girl) gives her any affection, she wants more. It’s only natural right?

Except.

It’s not.

Chloe knows it’s not no matter how hard she tries to convince herself otherwise. So she latches onto Adrien, throws herself at him every chance she gets. It’s normal right? Having a crush on Adrien (a  _ boy _ ) was completely normal. 

Still, there are times Chloe feels eyes boring into her back and fears that everyone knows what she’s hiding. The fear makes her more desperate, holding onto Adrien as though he could protect her. Marinette and Alya glare each time she does so, and Chloe feels fear pierce her heart. 

_ They know,  _ a dark voice in her mind whispers.  _ They know what you are.  _

She sneers at them, trying to keep her voice from trembling as she spat insults at them. They threw insults back without hesitation. That, at least, was normal. As long as they hated her for how she treated them, she was fine. 

There wasn’t much anyone knew about Chloe. Despite the fact that she gossiped and insulted everyone she knew, despite how much she talked and flaunted her wealth, there wasn’t a lot people knew about her. Everything they knew were facts they could get from magazines. Adrien confirms the class’s theory that she had always been cruel with stories of their childhood. He hasn’t noticed he fear yet, or how she pales when someone mentions gays. 

Chloe was alone. She was terrified and pushed everyone away, calling on her father so he could act as a good father and continue playing mayor. 

The year passes with akumas and Ladybug. No one is any wiser. 

It’s only near the very end, the last week of school, that they notice that something’s wrong with Chloe. 

Hawkmoth had been quiet, and there hadn’t been any akumas for two weeks. The class had finished all their courses and only messed around in class. Chloe rarely spends time in the classroom anymore. She wanders around the school, thinking and quiet, different from the Chloe everyone knew. 

That day, she had hears something. Near the back of the school, a young boy was cowering on the ground as two older boys towered over him spitting insults. Louis, they had called him, asking why he didn’t act normal and get a girlfriend, threatened him to stop being gay. 

Chloe leaves without being seen, running away before they found out she wasn’t normal either. 

She had heard the horror stories, of course. Who hadn’t? Anyone who wasn’t gay or conform to society’s idea of gender was shunned and beaten into submission. But she had never seen it in reality, never seen how cruel others could be for something they couldn’t change. (It was ironic, really, with how much she insulted others for things that were just as hard to change. She knew she wasn’t a good person, but didn’t know how to change.)

Her feet lead her to the classroom. She walks in silently, head bowed, trembling. Adrien notices immediately.

“Chloe?” he asks, slowly, standing from his desk. “Are you okay?”

She doesn’t look at him. She walks towards her desk. Everyone’s eyes were on her, she knows, even though she could hear the quiet conversation of the other students. 

“Chloe?” Adrien asks again, standing in front of her. He lifts a hand and put it on her shoulder, backing away when she flinches. 

“Please don’t,” she says. When she looks up, there was a fear in her eyes he had seen before, amplified by tenfold. 

His brow furrows in confusion. She could practically see the thoughts flying through his mind, a litany of:  _ What happened? Is she okay? What upset her? Wasn’t Chloe supposed to be unbreakable? _

He doesn’t get the chance to voice any of his questions. When he moves to place a gentle, comforting hand on her shoulder again, Chloe reacts instantly, years of self defense classes making her move without thinking. She slaps his hand away, taking a step back, hands raised to defend from any attacks. 

There’s a flash of hurt in Adrien’s eyes. She knows she’s treating him like an enemy, knows it’s unfair, but she can’t trust herself from breaking down in terrified tears if he got too close. She knows she’s hurting him, throwing away years of playdates and friendship in a moment of panic and terror. 

The classroom is quiet when she says, “Don’t,” in a soft voice. Chloe knows they’re all watching her. The feeling of being watched in familiar; being the mayor’s daughter makes people interested in you. Sometimes it’s not a good thing.

“I’m leaving,” she says quietly. The teacher says nothing, simply watching as Chloe picks up her bag and walks to the door. 

Her hands are shaking when she reaches for the doorknob. For a moment, she stares blankly. Then she curls her hand into a fist, forcing her nails to dig into the flesh of her palm, and takes a deep breath.

She’s gone before anyone can say another word. 


	2. Mortal

It’s Sabrina who goes after her.

Of course it is. Who else would it be?

Adrien didn’t know how to act around her anymore. She didn’t know how to act around him. Too many things had changed and she knew that they’ll never get the easy friendship they had in their childhood. She wishes that she didn’t miss it so much.

But she still had Sabrina. Sabrina, who stood by her for years, even if it was only out of fear. Sabrina, who deserved so much better than Chloe. Sabrina, who sometimes was too afraid to talk to Chloe despite years together, but still chased after her.

“Are you alright, Chloe?” she asks, breathless from having run from the classroom to the entrance of the school. Her head is bowed when she asks, panting, but when she straightens up there’s genuine concern in her eyes.

Chloe doesn’t know how to deal with it. How long had it been since anyone looked at her like that? Like they actually cared for her? Like she was worth any amount of their concern?

There were tears in her eyes. When had that happened? Chloe looks up at Sabrina, looks into her eyes, so filled with concern, and lets her guard down. She puts down all her walls and defenses and lets herself open up. For a moment, Chloe allowed herself to be vulnerable. For a moment, Chloe let someone in.

“I don’t know,” she whispers, a broken, fragile thing. “I don’t know.”

Sabrina lays a gentle hand on her shoulder, and rather than flinch away from it as she had with Adrien, Chloe leans into the touch, beginning to shake harder.

Though she couldn’t always understand what was happening, Sabrina had always been good at supporting others and taking care of them. Of taking care of her. So instead of asking invasive questions, Sabrina smiles and says, “Let’s get out of here. Parks are always lovely at this time of day, unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather go?”

Chloe shakes her head. “Parks,” she says, “Parks are good.”

Without another word, she takes one of Chloe’s hands in her own and leads her out of the school. The farther they got, the easier it was the breathe; the stone that sat on her chest remained, but the pressure wasn’t as suffocating as it once was. Her thoughts no longer ran frantically around her head, too fast to make sense of, but calmed down enough for her to think straight.

It was a nice day out, Chloe notes. The sunshine was gentle and warm on her cheeks, and the soft breeze on her back was relaxing. There weren’t many people out, with it being the middle of a week day, and Chloe took a moment to let Sabrina guide her completely as she tilted her head up to watch clouds move slowly in the sky.

She doesn’t know how long they had been walking. The rhythmic sounds of their feet drumming against the pavement matched the beating of her heart. The sun had moved past its midday point.

Chloe didn’t know if it was real or not. It was as though she was dreaming. The light was both too bright and strangely dim, she felt the breeze brush past her arms but couldn’t process what it felt like, and felt detached from her body. It felt as though she floated above her body, watching everything happen but not _feeling_ any of it.

_Was any of it real?_

All of her sense were dulled, as if she were underwater. Chloe glances down at where she and Sabrina held hands, and frowns. She couldn’t feel the warmth of Sabrina’s hand, or the way their palms pressed together. She couldn’t feel anything. What was once her body was replaced by a glass marionette, controlled by strings and filled with nothing but emptiness.

At some point, they reached the park. _Parc des Butes-Chaumont_ , Chloe recalls distantly. She was sitting on the grass in the comfortable shade of a tree. Slowly, she lifts a hand and stares at it blankly. It didn’t feel like her arm. It didn’t feel like her body.

Sabrina was gone. She had gone to get something, Chloe was sure, but she didn’t know what.

Chloe blinks, and stares blankly out in front of her. She knows she’s dissociating. It happened often enough for Chloe to be used to it. Letting out a breath, she draws her knees up into her chest and rests her head against them. Her eyes slip close as she waits to feel real again.

Birds sing overhead. Leaves move gently in the wind. Cars rush past in the distance. Muffled footsteps on grass approach her.

When she opens her eyes, Sabrina's there, haloed by sunlight and holding two cones of ice cream in her hands. Mint chocolate chip for Chloe and strawberry for herself.

“Here,” she says as she hands the cone to Chloe.

For a moment, Chloe stares at it before reaching out and taking it. “Thanks,” she mumbles, and they both know it’s for more than just the ice cream.

Sabrina sits down besides her, and, after a moment, says, “Anytime.”

It feels like a promise, but Chloe knows better than to believe it. Promises are always meant to be broken.

They sit together in silence until the sun nears the horizon. The park slowly fills with people who wander by as Chloe and Sabrina hurry to lick off the melted ice cream that fell onto their hands. Once done, Sabrina stands and stretches, holding her hands high above her hands. Chloe can’t help but smile fondly at the small noise she makes as she stretches onto her toes, looking as though she was reaching for the clouds.

Sabrina catches her eye as she lowers her arms. Chloe looks away and quickly busies herself with standing and brushing dirt off her clothes. She wills herself not to lose her composure and blush, but it’s a losing battle.

If Sabrina notices, she doesn’t say.

Instead, she looks at the setting sun with soft eyes. She looks golden and glowing in the light, like an angel Chloe didn’t deserve. She forces her eyes away, looking up into the sky knowing that she is too mortal to ever be worthy of an angel’s affections.

The thought makes her feel like she’s drowning, lungs so filled with despair that she can’t breathe. She chases the feeling away with distractions, thoughts of how to act normal when she goes to school the next day, how to keep people for worrying about her. How to be perfect again.

Sabrina looks back at her, still haloed in light, and smiles. “Ready to go home?” she asks, sounding as though she would be willing to stay with Chloe longer if the answer was no. Rather than take advantage of her kindness as she usually does, Chloe shakes her head.

“No,” she answers, “It’s time for us to go back. Any longer and our parents will be worried.”

“Right,” Sabrina agrees, and waits for Chloe to start walking before she moves.

It’s normal, the way they walk, with Chloe leading and Sabrina following. Always a few steps behind, close enough to show that they were friends, but far enough for both to be conscious of the distance. It was a clear show of who was the strong one in their friendship, who made the decisions and lead.

Chloe always felt that she was meant to be a leader, being the daughter of the mayor, but  knew that she’d never be a good leader. At best, she would be a tyrant. She wasn’t someone who easily cared about others and did anything to help them. She wasn’t strong enough to take charge in difficult situations. She wasn’t able to listen to others and work together to make things better. She wasn’t like Marinette, who was a natural leader.

She wasn’t fit to lead anyone.

Chloe keeps her eyes on the shadows that stretched in front of her as she slows down. Sabrina’s shadow tilts its head in confusion, but doesn’t get any closer to her. Sabrina had slowed down too, it seemed.

“Well?” Chloe asks, looking back, “Are you coming or not?”

For a moment, Sabrina frowns, confused, before her eyes light up with understanding and she takes a place by Chloe’s side, glowing with happiness.

( _How cruel had she been for the simple act of walking side by side made her so happy? How cruel had she been to her only friend?_ )

Sabrina walks with Chloe to her mansion, and gives a large wave before turning to go back to her own home. The front  door shuts quietly as Chloe sighs, feeling exhausted a drained from the day.

It takes only a hour for her to eat dinner and shower before she’s falling into her bed, feeling as though she could sleep for five years. And though her eyes close, too heavy to be kept open, Chloe thinks about Sabrina, remembers every moment they spent together. She remembers how Sabrina always stayed with her, supported her, and asked for nothing in return. She remembers how she treated Sabrina as though she was replaceable, rather than the one person left in Chloe’s life that she couldn’t bare to lose.

She eventually falls asleep wondering how Sabrina stayed with her for so long when she could have left. Her last thought is of how Sabrina has always deserved better than Chloe, and of how selfish she is to try to keep Sabrina close.

That night, Chloe only got a few hours a sleep. When she wakes up from a dream she can’t remember, there are tears rolling down her face and a hand clutching at the sheets as she struggles to breathe through the crushing feeling of guilt.

It’s only during those times that Chloe realizes how mortal she truly is.


	3. Haze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was a mess tbh

There’s a reason behind Chloe’s constant bullying. Many reasons, actually. She uses these as a shield, to say that cruelty is a form of protection. She tries not to think of how her mother, who was full of love and kindness and told Chloe to always be soft and kind, would be disappointed in her.

But her mother’s gone, and, well, the reasons were all true.

  1. Don’t get close to people. They will use you.
  2. Everyone will love the mask you put up. They will never love the true you.
  3. If they already hate you, it won’t feel like betrayal when they look at you in disgust since you’re not normal.



Chloe would blame these reasons for being alone, but knows that it’s her fault. Besides, they did their job and kept her safe.

(She was eight years old and her mother was taking her to the park for the first time. She made a friend immediately and was overjoyed. As much as she liked playing with Adrien, she wanted to be with other people too. It was a year later that she overheard the mother telling her daughter to suck up to Chloe, act like their friends, and steal any jewelry she finds. They don’t meet again. Chloe experienced heartbreak at the age of nine.)

But sometimes, she remembers her mother’s words and feels as though she betrayed her. Feels as though she disappointed her. Most nights she can ignore it, distract herself with other thoughts. Some nights, the thought, “ _She would hate the person you’ve become_ ” echo in her head until she sees the sun begin to rise.

(Her father used to let her play in his office. He’d put her in his lap and answer any questions she had from reading the papers on his desk. She pretended to be working, pretended to be a mayor just like her father, and her father laughed and smiled as her mother wandered in to take pictures. He told her to get out and let her leave when she walked in a few months after her mother died. The only times she was really with him was when they went to public events and galas where she put on the mask of a loved child with more than she could ever want. The media loves it. They all hate the Chloe who is scared, and lonely, and wants to run away. She hasn’t been true to herself in years.)

Those nights were the worst, leaving her with dark bags under her eyes and vision fuzzy with exhaustion. Her hands would shake as she tried to apply foundation and concealer and eyeshadow to seem more awake, more _alive_ , but her eyes look more hollow than ever before. She sets down her makeup brush and struggles to breathe around the weight that sits on her chest.

(She hates her cruelty, but it’s the best defense she has. Every time she spits out insults like acid, her throat is raw and burning. Chloe has been their classmate for years. They’ve all been around each other long enough for her to know what hurts them to most. She picks out these insecurities and draws them out. Alya almost slaps her once. She had stolen and insulted Marinette’s sketchbook, filled with gorgeous drawings and designs she could never hope to match, and she tore down all her work like nothing. Some days she wishes Alya had hit her, that Marinette didn’t stop her. The hate and rage in their eyes burns her, but at least she will know what it feels like if they ever find out about her _wrongness_. At least then, she can brush it off. It would be easy after years of experience.)

These were things that Chloe kept from everyone, secrets locked deep inside her in hopes that no one would ever find them. But sometimes, like that day, that Chloe felt as though Sabrina _knew._

It starts as it always does: Sabrina waiting by the front door, leaning against the wall as Chloe grabs her backpack and straightens her cardigan. The world looks hazy from her eyes, soft colors blurring into each other and got worse as she blinked. She struggles to keep her eyes open, forcing them to look alert, but Sabrina just smiles understandingly. Even with the layers of makeup on her face, Chloe feels naked under her gaze.

“Ready for school?” she asks once Chloe reaches her.

Her voice is caught in her throat, so all Chloe can do is nod with stiff movements.

Sabrina observes her carefully for a moment, before she tilts her head and asks, “Are you okay? Did you get enough sleep last night?”

Sudden pushes the words off her tongue. “I’m fine. I’m just tired today.”Though Sabrina doesn’t seem to believe it, she lets it go and waits for Chloe to leave first. As she does, she feels her heart hammering in her chest, paranoia insisting that Sabrina knew how she couldn’t sleep, crying for her dead mother, while the dark parts of her mind whisper, “ _She wouldn’t want you to be her daughter if she saw who you are now._ ” And though Chloe desperately tries to convince herself that her mother loved her, and how she would be different if her mother was still alive, her heart to shakes and fractures.

The feeling makes her wonder if there was any part of her heart that was still left to break and shatter like fragile glass. She finds it hard to believe that there are.

It was only a matter of time before those parts of her heart broke as well.

She walks past the limo that day, telling the driver she wanted to walk to school. Though surprised, the driver nods and respectfully backs away. Sabrina follows loyally without question.

Chloe is silent as she walks, barely processing anything. The details of the world blurred together into blobs of color, and she could feel herself beginning to stumble. Every movement was difficult, each limb felt like lead. But the thought of what the others thought of the scene the day before, of them figuring out what had chased her from the school terrified her. The fear gave her the energy to keep going, to put on a mask, to act as though nothing happened.

The thought of facing everyone made her feel sick, nausea rolling in her stomach. Would they whisper and wonder? Glare and hiss insults? Or would they look at her with faked sympathy? She finds it hard to believe anyone would feel bad for her, or go through to effort to fake it. Perhaps they would roll their eyes, saying, _"It was just for attention. Just like everything else she's ever done."_ It was mostly true. Cries for help, trying to bring attention to problems she doesn't know how to solve. Trying to get someone to care because asking for help was weakness and well.

Her father made sure to teach her that weakness meant failure.

Thoughts of her father come to mind then; a series of _does he still care for me? or am I a pawn of his politics?_ and wondering when he stopped being _Papa!_ and turned into _Sir_ and _Father._ When had he become the Mayor and when did he stop being her father? Her mother was the glue that held them together and without her they were falling apart-

Chloe blinks in surprise as Sabrina pull her back, body lurching from the sudden force. She forces her eyes to focus and realizes she was about to walk in front of a speeding bus. Her heart beat painfully in her chest as she turned to look at Sabrina with wide eyes.

For a long moment, they stare at each other, frozen in shock, until Sabrina lets out a shaky breath and slowly lets go of Chloe.

Though thankful that Sabrina was there to stop her, Chloe can’t help but wonder if she would have kept walking anyways. Even if she was aware of the bus.

 _Yes_ , she thinks. _I would have kept going._

It scares her to know how little she cares for her life. It is better to not think about it, she decides, and pushes it out of her mind. The haze takes over and when the cars stop, she walks forward with unfocused eyes.

Part of her hopes Sabrina will let her get hit next time.She buries that part of her underneath gold and marble and steel, hoping it is enough to keep it at bay.

When the school looms above them, Chloe lifts her head and walks with the confidence of a queen, desperately hoping that it is enough to cover up the stiffness of her movements and the paleness of her face. She hopes the glitter and glamor of her clothes are enough to blind people from the truth. The sign of wealth will stop them.

After all, the rich are never unhappy.

Chloe wonders if there was a way she could buy happiness and confidence.

If there was, then maybe there was a way to buy back the life of her mother.


	4. Morose

Adrien doesn’t talk to her.

Chloe’s not surprised. She had hoped he would ask her what was wrong (he knew how bad it had gotten before) but he laughs with Nino and doesn’t even look her way when she enters the classroom.

Sabrina gently tugs on her arm and leads her to their desk.

Chloe takes a moment to breathe, then holds her head high, wearing the cold mask of a blood covered queen.

She has to separate herself from her classmates. While the path she’s chosen leads to loneliness, it's better than pain and regret.

_(What’s to say she won’t regret this choice? It’s a thought that’s plagued Chloe for years.)_

Sabrina sits besides her silently and submissively. But when she looks at Chloe, she looks her in the eyes even though her head is bowed. Her blue eyes are bright and strong and Chloe wonders how anyone could view her as weak.

Exhaustion pulls at her and makes every movement slow and sluggish. The weight on her chest makes it hard to breathe, but Chloe tries anyways. She’s suffocating slowly but it’s a familiar feeling. It hasn’t left her since the funeral.

She blinks when Sabrina nudges her. Chloe tunes back into reality, realizing she had drifted off into a faraway place. For a moment, she can’t make out what’s being said. It doesn’t sound like any language she knows. But her head clears and the voices in the classroom become too loud.

They’re talking about the future. About their future.

“What about you?” Sabrina asks. “What plans do you have for the future?”

Though they pretend otherwise, she knows her classmates are listening in. “A fashion designer of course. Or maybe a model. I definitely have the talent for both,” she says. Marinette snorts and rolls her eyes. Chloe turns to her, sneering and hoping nobody notices how her hands shake. “What,” she spits, “It’s not like you have any talent to brag about.”

Marinette’s eyes turn hard as steel as she glares, venom in her voice. “At least I don’t have to rely on my father for everything. Have you forgotten who won the design competition?”   

“People clearly just don’t see talent when it’s right in front of them. That’s the only reason you won.”

“At least I can make my own clothes and designs. You just steal the credit from everyone else!”

Adrien frowns and looks between the two of them, but Chloe knows he supports Marinette. The clear disapproval on his face is enough to let her know who he sides with. Chloe isn’t surprised; the entire class supports Marinette. She’s everything Chloe wants to be. The difference is that Marinette has nothing to fear and Chloe is terrified of everything.

To Marinette, being herself meant being kind and being loved. To Chloe, being herself meant being shunned and hated and in danger of being one of the horror stories. She refused to let anyone make a warning out of her. Even if it meant living in the shadows until the day she died.

Chloe crosses her arms and digs her nails into her palms. “Whatever,” she says, fixing a look of disgust on her face. “It’s not like I need to work anyways. I have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my life.”

The class moves on, pointedly ignoring her and keeping her out of the conversation. That’s alright; Chloe wouldn’t know what to say anyways. Her cruel lies and insults would keep people from digging too deep.

There wasn’t a future for her, in any case. She wouldn’t become a fashion designer or model or anything else. She didn’t plan to live past twenty. One way or another, she would die before she hit twenty-one, either by an outside force or by her own hand.

There was little that kept her around anyways.

Mme. Bustier enters the room then, and calls the class to order. All talk of the future are stopped in favor of beginning class. Chloe can’t help but feel grateful, for thoughts of her life tended to stray down a dark path she only visited in the dead of night.

She takes slow breaths to slow her heart and lets Mme. Bustier’s voice wash over her. The last week of school was going to be spent writing a series poems with a group. Poems that summed up the year, spoke of dreams and nightmares, that captured the beauty of the world around them; one last way to make students work together.

Her throat burns with the weight of the words she’s said that brought out the monsters in people. She thinks of when she became a monster, a sorry copy of a hero. The only poems that live within her are dark and dangerous. They were not made to be seen, but made to dig their claws down your back in the shadows of parks.

There were no kind words for the misguided villain.

Beautiful things never come from darkness.

The class moves and speaks to each other with excitement coloring their voices. They begin to form their groups, of up to six, and she knew only Adrien would let her work with him. Sabrina waits for her to stand before following.

Chloe hides everything she is when she saunters over to her childhood friend. Marinette and Alya watch her move with fire in their eyes, burning her as she hops onto Adrien’s desk. “Looks like we’ll be working together, Ardikins,” she coos, trying to ignore how he leans away from her.

“Aren’t groups only supposed to be four members?” he asks, looking for a way to avoid her. Though it hurts, it’s more a dull ache of a bruise than the pain of heartbreak. Chloe can’t blame him though. She would have done the same thing.

She tosses her head and says, “The smallest a group can be is four, actually. And everyone else is in groups, so you _have_ to work with me and Sabrina.”

“Alright, Chloe.” is all Adrien says, but his voice is that of a sigh a smile can’t hide.

Alya and Marinette take control of the project quickly, though Marinette stutters through each sentence and can barely look at Adrien. A part of her wants to close her eyes and forget the world for a minute, but she won’t do anything that will make people wonder. The only people who would notice and care are sitting next to her and the risk is too great. But her eyes still glaze over as she gets pulled into her thoughts, wanting to be jealous but only finding exhaustion instead.

Marinette would be good for Adrien, she knows, once she stopped being so scared of what he thought of her. She would be better than Chloe ever could, but that’s only to be expected. She just wishes there was still a place for her in Adrien’s life even if it’s as the villain.  

Alya claps her hands together and grabs Chloe’s attention. “So!” she starts brightly, pointedly not looking in her direction, “We just have to write a few poems about ourselves. Our thoughts on things, memories from the year, things like that should be the main topics. Let’s have a minimum of at least three poems each. Most of this is individual work, but we’ll have to check each other’s poems for spelling mistakes and figure out where to put in in the collection.”

Both Adrien and Nino made murmurs of agreement and Marinette nods almost violently. Sabrina remains silent, though Chloe can feel her watching her from the corner of her eye.

 _She knows,_ her mind whispers. She smothers the thought but the damage is done. She tenses just slightly, and to the untrained eye she would look no different but Sabrina knew better than that.

Sometimes it scared Chloe, how well Sabrina knew her.

She digs her heel into her calf and focuses on breathing as she rolls her shoulders back and lifts her head higher. It was a facade of confidence she had perfected long ago. “Whatever,” she says, voice bored and uninterested, “Let’s just hurry up and finish this. I don’t want to spend the last days of school with people like _you_.”

“ _Fine,_ ” Alya snaps, baring her teeth in a harsh smile. “Good luck with your poems,” she adds, her voice as sweet as poison. The four quickly go back to talking to each other, Chloe already forgotten as she heads back to her own desk with Sabrina trailing behind her.

Just the few minutes of talking left her drained and tired. Chloe wanted nothing more than to rest her head on her desk and sleep the day away, but she knew that would get people’s attention.

She takes out a pen and notebook, the movement waking her up a little more. The pen is a comforting weight in her hands as she twirls it around her fingers. The paper of the notebook is smooth underneath her fingertips.

Sabrina presses her ankle against Chloe’s.

It’s a comfort she doesn’t deserve.

Chloe doesn’t write anything at first. She drags the pen along the paper instead and watches the flow of the ink.

There are words thrashing to escape, but she keeps a tight lock on them. They burn low in her chest. She’s afraid that they’ll burn through everything if she lets them out, puts them on paper and shows them to the world.

_we were once young and innocent-_

_i had a future once, but all that lies ahead of me is an empty grave, waiting waiting waitingwaitingwaiting-_

_ghosts live besides us, hidden in the corners of our eyes-_

_i dont breathe anymore. i dont see or hear or feel. i dont live-_

_is this a dream? god, i hope so-_

Every idea that crosses her mind comes from a dark and lonely place within her. Every word is one she has smothered and buried under mental walls for years. It wasn’t something Chloe could show anyone.

There were no light topics or bright words.

"Can’t think of anything to write?" Sabrina asks, leaning closer to speak in a hushed voice.

Chloe forces herself to smile and say, "Can’t choose what I want to write, actually."

"Oh," she says, caught off guard by the response that didn’t seem like something Chloe would say. "Well, that’s better than no idea at all."

In a rare moment of truth, Chloe ducks her head and says, "That’s debateable with my ideas.”

When she braves a glance up, Sabrina is staring at her with soft eyes, bright with surprise. Her lips curve upwards in a pleased smile that carries a foreign gravity that draws Chloe in.

She finds that she doesn’t need so many words with Sabrina.

The pen stops, and with it, the dark lines of ink scarring the paper. The haze in her head falls away under the blue of Sabrina’s eyes and Chloe feels a calm settle within her that finally lets her breathe.


	5. Chains

The poetry assignments is more that she thought it would be. Chloe expected it to be a struggle, stressing over how to put her ideas onto paper. But when the moon barely breaks through the darkness in her room well past midnight, the words won’t stop coming.

They tumble and crash over her notebook, leaving it a mess of ink, smudged by a trembling hand. Many lines are scratched out, unreadable under the lines of blue ink. Thoughts written down trail off into empty space, unfinished; abandoned. 

Chloe never remembers what followed those thoughts, but the abrupt end of ink leaves her throat closed up and tight. It gets harder to breathe with the endings of those poems rotting away in the gaps between her ribs. 

She tears out those pages and tries to forget what she read.

Chloe tries to write about Paris, about love, about the way the clouds change color at sunset. Every word that’s used feels fake, almost like plastic. 

She gives up. Those poems are meant for the day, when she pretends to be okay and puts on confidence like war paint. But for now, every dark word that has ever rotten in her tears itself out of her. 

These poems are wild and feral and dangerous. The truth they speak cut into her and Chloe wants nothing more than to bleed dry. When the moonlight hits the ink, sometimes, it looks like blood.

 

_ all i am is decay _

_ all i touch rots alongside my body. _

_ i am endings and death and silence _

_ there has never been any hope for me. _

 

_ fear is a shelter just as it is a weapon _

_ a smile is the sharpest knife i have ever wielded _

_ confidence is a lie no one looks past _

_ no one ever cares for the heartless until you kill them _

_ will anyone care when i cut myself to pieces? _

 

Midnight poems were always loud neon warning signs. Chloe wants nothing more than to avoid them at all cost, and yet she finds herself clutching a notebook every night in desperation. Everything she’s never said is revealed to the paper and it feels like a weight has been lifted. Chloe knows she will always been held down by  _ something,  _ but after writing her poems, the chains binding her feel a little lighter.

Half-lucid writing has taken over her nights. She rarely lies tossing and turning in bed, kicking off the covers and pulling them back up again. The mornings are rough, but that’s nothing new, so she figures she can power through it like any other day. 

No one notices the exhaustion pulling at her bones. She goes out more often to buy more concealer; it takes too much to cover up evidence of sleepless nights now. 

At school, groups gather during Literature to work on complying their poems into a single project, choosing orders and figuring out formats. Chloe hasn’t handed in anything yet. Alya and Marinette glare when she saunters up to them empty-handed, and Adrien regards her with a look of disappointment. Nino doesn’t bother looking at her, and Chloe can only feel relieved by this. 

“Have you really not written anything yet?” Sabrina asks as class ends one day.

Chloe shrugs. “It’s nothing I want to give them.”

Sabrina watches her with sharp eyes, and Chloe feels the panic flare up in her immediately. This was headed to a dangerous, unknown territory. 

She changes the subject and tries to put up her best mask. “Never mind that,” she says, tossing her head arrogantly, “This assignment in boring me. Let’s go shopping. That’ll make all this at least a little more fun.” Her voice is a little too high, and she prays that Sabrina doesn’t notice.

“Okay.”

Chloe doesn’t need to hear anything else, and spins on her heel to leave the school. She knows Sabrina is following, but still looks to the shadows on the sidewalk and takes comfort in Sabrina’s figure. 

It’s a quiet walk to Beaugrenelle shopping center. Chloe pretends to be too focused on her phone to make conversation, and Sabrina remains silent. The streets get busier the closer they get, both from shoppers and tourists gaping at the Eiffel tower. They all part for her, as though they can sense her wealth and importance and don’t want to upset her. For a moment, Chloe compares it to the way princesses are treated. She scoffs, and changes the images to a tyrant. 

_ Much more fitting _ , she thinks, and walks into Beaugrenelle with her head high and her shoulders back. When she catches sight of their reflection in one of the store windows, she sees Sabrina scurrying after her, hunching into herself. 

Chloe feels part of her heart break ( _ how can a heart made of stone shatter so easily? _ ) and turns on her heel to walk into a store. The image stays with her. 

She grabs a dress without really looking at it and holds it up for Sabrina. 

“What do you think?” she asks, holding the dress against herself.

She’s hyper aware of Sabrina’s blue eyes moving along the dress; it feels more like her gaze is trailing along the lines of her body and Chloe tries not to shiver at the sensation.

Sabrina hums and cocks her head to one side. “It looks really good Chloe!” she says, ever loyal and pleasing, “You’d look great in it!”

Chloe holds it back out, using it as a barrier between them, and actually looks at it. She immediately grimaces, taking in the blue and brown stripes on the white dress that wouldn’t look good on her no matter what she did. Actually, it didn’t look like something that would look good on anyone without the use of dark magic.

“It’s not my color,” she says, shoving it back onto the rack and walking away. Sabrina stammers out something too quiet to be heard, then rushes after her. 

The store gets more crowded the deeper they go, filled with students just coming from school and adults who are lucky enough to be off work. They rarely pass each other, though Chloe isn’t sure if it’s because she’s constantly looking for ways to avoid them or if they see her and figure it’s better to go the other direction. She swears she can feel their eyes trailing her every move from across the clothing rack. The too familiar feeling of nausea rises up in her, but she swallows it down to keep her public image from crumbling in the face of the truth. 

She holds out another dress, then another, looking at even the ones she likes with disgust or disinterest. Sabrina doesn’t speak; she’s traded words for the barely hidden concerned glances that make Chloe want to hide. 

She lasts two hours before she’s completely drained of energy. Sabrina understands this without needing to be told, and puts a gentle hand on Chloe’s arm to guide her out of the store. They leave the bright lights and the cheerful tunes of Louane in favor of the quieter Parisian streets.

Sabrina’s eyes burn through her every movements. Chloe wants to hide, so she does what she does best and buries everything she is under the public persona that’s been her prison and sanctuary for so long.

"Ugh," she starts, tossing her head, "I can’t believe there was nothing good! Has Paris lost all its fashion sense? Who would  _ ever _ want to wear anything on those racks?"

"Right!" Sabrina agrees, though her voice is hesitant in a way that tells Chloe she thinks otherwise, "None of them were good enough for you, Chloe. Maybe next season will have better trends."

"It better, I refuse to wear anything that’s from  _ last year _ . Honestly, am  the only one who knows how to be fashionable anymore?”

Sabrina makes a sound of agreement, but says nothing more, and the heavy beats of her heart wash over her completely; Chloe feels so fragile and human it makes her sick. She says a quick goodbye to Sabrina and makes her escape across the road, refusing to look back no matter how much she wants too. 

Her hands shake as she gets to the hotel ( _ she spends more time there than in her own home; wasn’t that sad? _ ) but years of experience let her hide it was ease as she breezes through the lobby to the elevator. 

No one stops her.

No one even looks at her.

It hurts in a way she hates but knows she deserves. The ride up is silent, save the cheerful elevator music and the measured breaths she takes to keep from having a panic attack.

She wishes everything could just stop. She wishes she was never born. But there’s nothing she can do besides breathe and try to get through another day.

There’s something heavy that pulls at her limbs, making her movements slow and unsteady as she wanders down the hall to her room, the largest in the hotel. The heaviness pulls at her eyes when she closes the door behind her and slumps against it. As tempting as the soft bed is, Chloe stumbles to the desk, collapses into the seat, and writes. 

Blurs of black and blue ink dance across her vision and stain her fingers; there’s poetry in the lines she cannot read. There’s poetry in herself. There is poetry. 

There is a release in the words that hold no order or rhyme but sing all the same. 

If she could die a poet, then perhaps her death would mean something. Her life would mean nothing. 

Sabrina wouldn’t understand. Not with any way Chloe could explain it. There was something both comforting and terrifying in that fact; here was something that belonged solely to her, not her family, not her reputation, not her pain. No one could take it from her. No one could  _ know.  _

Part of it makes her feel lonelier, but it’s a loneliness that is kind and comforting where her heart beats louder than the silence and the cold in her bones disappears under the comforts of the ever flowing ink.

That night, Chloe is able to sleep soundly for the first time in months. 

The bruises under her eyes remain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen. i don't know what this is. but it's here so eh
> 
> im gonna have more poems in the next chapter and yes theyre all written by me so dont expect too much


	6. Fold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy this is a long one.
> 
> all the poems in here are ones i wrote myself which is why they aren't that good ok so dont expect much

    _If I was only ever to be the villain, do not fault me for playing me role._

_This is the hand you have dealt me. I do my best._

_Do not think you can kiss the scars you left on me and call yourself a hero._

_I do not need to be saved. I do not need to be stopped by you._

_Let me be the darkness between the stars;_

_They, at least, accept me for what I am._

 

There’s two days left before every poem is to be typed up and held in a little book. The others had gotten their poems finished and worked together to look over typos and any errors that would take away from the poem.

Chloe hadn’t given them anything.

Alya sends an angry text first, saying _I don’t care if you steal someone else’s poem, just bring one in. I won’t let you be the one to drag the rest of us down._

Adrien’s is kinder, but the message is still the same. 

 

_From Adrien: We only have a few more days left, Chloe. Please bring one in? The rest of us have already finished. We can help you if you need it!_

 

She doesn’t reply to either of them, and instead rolls onto her side, wondering if it was worth getting out of bed. She wasn’t hungry and her body was weighted down by gravity that stole the movements from her. Summer vacation was just a few days away. Did it really matter?

There’s still half an hour until her alarm is to ring, but she can’t fall back asleep. Her hands are still ink stained from the night; she collapsed into bed before she washed it off. The notebook is still open.

Sabrina texts her when her alarm rings itself into silence. 

 

_From Sabrina: Hey, are you not going to turn in your poems? I was really looking forward to reading them! I’m sure they would have been as great as you are!_

 

If there’s one person she wishes she didn’t disappoint, it was Sabrina. No matter what she did or said, Sabrina always stayed by her side, supportive and kind. Chloe had brought her down enough. The least she could do is give her pieces of herself that she ripped out and turned into blue-ink words.

Chloe gets out of bed with a heavy sigh.

Her throat feels too tight and her heart beats painfully against her chest. There’s nausea rolling in her stomach, but she swallows it down to stumble to the bathroom and get ready. She washes her face quickly and pats it dry with a small towel, but freezes when she looking into the mirror to begin putting on her makeup.

The hollows of her cheeks had sunken in, the bruises under her eyes darker, her skin paler and lifeless. God, how did she get so bad? She seems more corpse than teenager. It was never supposed to be like this.

It’s things like this that make Chloe wish she could ask for help.

She would never get it though. The last time she asked her father, pouring out her soul, listing every symptom and mental illness she might have, and he handed her a credit card and waved her off.

She snapped it in half and buried it in her drawer of ignored things.

Now, Chloe just tries to get by from day to day, wondering when it would be okay for her to die. She would never get the help she needed; death is all that waits for her now.

Foundation, concealer, eyeshadow, and wings sharp enough to cut away every trouble she had; even with the tremors that tear through her body, everything is applied evenly. Years of practice make it impossible to mess up even in an earthquake.

The notebook is all Chloe grabs when she finishes getting dressed. There were two days left of school, what would she need a backpack for? A notebook and pen can easily be carried with hands, and her phone fit nicely in her bra.

Sabrina waits just outside the door. Chloe takes pity on her and pushes her into a limo to drop them off, protected from the heat that’s already started to rise despite the early time of day.

“Is that--?” Sabrina begins to ask, looking down to the notebook in Chloe’s lap.

“Yeah,” she answers, cutting of Sabrina’s question. “I’ll pick two from here and give it to them.”

Almost immediately, Sabrina brightens, her happiness shining so bright Chloe had to look away.

She has the driver turn up the radio and ignores Sabrina best she can until they reach the school. Though it’s a small gesture, Chloe holds the door open and helps Sabrina out, making sure to keep their eyes from meeting. She walks away quickly as soon as she closes the door, desperate for the day to be over.

Sabrina follows.

“Go sit down,” Chloe says, “I’m going to find Adrien.”

When she looks, Sabrina’s frowning and it makes something in her ache, but she nods and walks off anyways.

The school is quiet that morning, most students in small groups chattering about summer plans or end of school assignments. The courtyard was mostly empty and Chloe couldn’t help but feel stupidly grateful. It always felt like there were so many eyes on her she was going crazy. But now, it was quiet and hazy and no one paid any attention to her.

Adrien stood next to the stairs that lead to the classrooms with Nino, laughing and generally being far too happy for the morning.

She would have prefered to do with one on one, but there wasn’t much she could do to get Nino to leave.

“Adrien,” she says dully, catching his attention immediately.

He turns to her, brows furrowing with a look of confusion and worry on his face. “Chloe?”

She holds the notebook up. “I have the poems, tell everyone to stop yelling at me.”

“Oh cool!” He’s always enthusiastic, especially with anything that had to do with his friends. She had been his only friend for the longest time and losing him to others hurt like a stab wound, but he deserved better than her. But his enthusiasm is what makes him grab the notebook from Chloe’s hand and flip through it, babbling about their groups poems excitedly. Chloe’s frozen on the stop, feeling disaster looming over her and waiting for it all to come crashing down.

She knows exactly what poem makes his freeze, eyes suddenly focusing on the page.

 

_we are more than tragedies_

_we are laughter and bright eyes_

_and hearts full of love_

_happy stories are taken away from us_

_hidden under tears and anger_

_ever-lingering fear_

_and shallow unmarked graves_

_tell me a new story_

_tell me of gentle hands at dusk_

_painting each other's nails_

_dressed in soft towels and wet hair_

_give us stories of lingering glances_

_and french braids with matching ties_

_let us live_

_let us love_

_we have dug enough graves_

_let us hold hands in busy hallways_

_terrified but alive_

_our hearts beating the same rhythm_

_i-love-you i-love-you i-love-you_

 

The poem was about how gay characters always died. How she was tired of burying herself in different bodies with different names. Adrien had read every word. _He knew._

Fear swallows her, drowns her, as she watches his eyes dart over the words, then look at her.

He doesn’t say anything. Somehow, that’s worse than any response she could have anticipated. He looks down and turns the page.

And that’s….

That’s another poem she didn’t want anyone to see, much less _Adrien._

It was too personal. It was too revealing.

 

_every moment i struggle for breath_

_choking around words left unsaid_

_with every heartbeat i feel my death_

 

_oh how ive become such a mess_

_leave me broken and bruised in bed_

_every moment i struggle for breath_

 

_rain-drenched in my prettiest dress_

_left to wonder what twists my head_

_with every heartbeat i feel my death_

 

_numb enough to fearlessly confess_

_here's the story of how ive bled_

_every moment i struggle for breath_

 

_others shine bright, i am so much less_

_you helped me only to leave me mislead_

_every moment i struggle for breath_

 

_no matter how much i hurt to impress_

_you will always choose someone else instead_

_every moment i struggle for breath_

_with every heartbeat i feel my death_

 

“Chloe,” he says, looking up with wide eyes filled with sorrow. “Chloe, have you always been thinking like this?”

She snatches the notebook from his hands. “I don’t see why you care,” she spits, defensive and afraid.

“I care because I’m your friend!”

“Are you really? Think about what a friend is and tell me honestly: are we friends?”

He doesn’t have an answer. But that’s alright. She knows what it would have been anyways.

Chloe leaves without another word, holding the notebook so tightly she begins to feel is bend under her grip.

As she storms off to the classroom trying to get her lungs to work again, she hears Nino quietly asking Adrien what happened. She doesn’t stick around long enough to hear the answer.

She ignores everyone in the classroom, including Sabrina and her worried green eyes. Without a second thought, Chloe savagely rips the two poems out of her notebook and slam them on Adrien’s desk. She doesn’t care anymore. It’s the end of the school year, and honestly, she knew her life was falling apart long before this.

Sabrina gently lays a hand on her shoulder and quickly pulls it away when Chloe flinches.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I’m going home, I’m not doing this today,” Chloe spits out the reply, blinking back the tears that start to gather in her eyes. “Tell Adrien that every poem in this stupid assignment is going to be anonymous. I don’t care what anyone else has to say, it’s all going to be anonymous.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“No. But when am I ever?” Chloe laughs a bitter sound and turns on her heel. “Don’t let anyone read the papers I put on Adrien’s desk,” she says over her shoulder, then makes her escape.

   

Adrien calls out to her when she leaves the school.

Chloe ignores him and walks to the hotel wiping away tears.

 

That night, she holds a lighter up to the notebook. She holds a lighter up to her fingers. She has been burning all her life, but the fire is too real this time. This is too real.

The fire is never lit. No burns color her hands red. Her lungs don’t choke on ash.

Still she burns.


	7. Grey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: suicide mention, starving
> 
> this chapter is v ehhhh. therell be more plot and action next chapter

Adrien calls and texts once school ends. Chloe hadn’t bothered to go to the last days of school, terrified to see what he thought of her now. She ignores the growing number of missed calls and ignored messages, going as far as to turning off her phone.

Days like these, she can’t muster up the energy to exist.

The most she can do is eat a small meal at noon, then hole up in her room again, wondering when the world would end. Every word of the too truthful poems rings through her mind when she gazes off into empty space; there’s a growing fear of seeing the others and their reactions. Years of building up the image of a ice hearted tyrant brought down with a few words. It’s a bitter thought, but Chloe can’t bring herself to leave it alone.

Her father pops by, an incredibly rare event, and asks how she’s been. Chloe’s gone through this too many times to mistake it as genuine care and affection. These are just lines to be followed to convince the world that nothing is falling apart.

"Chloe," he says, pushing open the door after knocking twice. "How have you been? Bored since school ended?"

She hums a neutral sound in answer, curled up on her window seat and painting her nails a golden color to have an excuse to avoid his eyes.

From the reflection of the window, Chloe can see her father fiddle awkwardly with the buttons of his suit jacket; the sting of having her own father act a stranger around her has faded years ago. This is simply routine to her now.

He clears his throat and continues on after a moment of tense silence. "The gala for the disabled children's education funding is in three days. I trust you to be ready by five that evening."

There it is: the reason he gave her existence a little more attention than usual. She can hear the unspoken words clearly: _Don’t mess this up for me and ruin our image._

"Fine," she says, dropping her voice into a bored drawl, "Is that it?"

"Yes, that’s it," he says, already beginning to turn away from her, "I will see you then Chloe. Let me know if you need anything."

An old tulle dress in a dark gold would do. She hasn’t worn it yet, and the beads embroidered on would hopefully distract from the bags under her eyes. Besides, it would match her nails and keep her from going outside to buy a new dress.

Chloe sets down the brush and gently blows on her nails to help them dry.

How tiring this was. She eyes the ground twenty feet below and wonders how much it would hurt to jump from this height. Wouldn’t matter in any case; it would just cause a mess and turn into another story of a privileged child desperate for attention.

Without thinking, Chloe digs her long nails into her thigh, relishing in the sting as it brings her back from those dangerous thoughts.

As tired as she is of going on like this, killing herself _now_ wouldn’t do any good.

Sabrina would be hurt by it. The thought forces a heavy lump in Chloe’s throat as her thoughts spiral to the one person who refuses to leave her side. So loyal and patient; it would take a lot more to drive Sabrina away. Even turning her into an akuma wasn’t enough. The thought of hurting Sabrina even more leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

She doesn’t bother wondering why hurting Sabrina would only end in hurting herself. That’s a rabbit hole she’s terrified of jumping down. Denial works better than being truthful.

Chloe pushes her nails harder against her flesh, trying to bring her thoughts away from Sabrina.

The nail polish is not yet dry and has turned into a gooey mess that leaves prints on her skin.

Damn.

She’ll have to start over again.

 

The day of the gala starts with a clap of thunder loud enough to startle Chloe into wakefulness. Heart pounding loudly in her chest, she grips the sheets with her hands and looks around, orienting herself.

Fading images of a dream linger for a moment, but it’s enough to make her feel sick and guilty and horrified all at once. She can’t remember what happened with any clarity, but feeling of cold hands choking her remain for a moment too long. Chloe wonders what she dreamed. She wonders if she really wants to know.

A quick glance at her bedside clock shows that it’s barely seven in the morning. That’s fine. She’s run on four hours of sleep before with only minor problems.

Another clap of thunder steals her attention, and Chloe throws off the bedsheets to stumble to the window, waking up more with each step. She pulls the curtain aside just enough to peer outside and watch the skies open. The world outside is still in the early morning, grey and lifeless. Rain falls down hard and quick, beating against the glass of her window mercilessly. Some part of her relaxes at the sound of rhythmic taps, and she curls up onto the window seat, leaning her head against the cool glass.

She’s a golden girl born into wealth and privilege. She should love the clear blue skies of June and the sweltering heat of midday summer; the grey and the quiet of storms is what calls for her instead. Chloe finds some peace of mind in the rain. The world quiets down and stops to wait for the rain to pass. Every dirty thing in the streets in washed away and all she can do is wish she could go out and let the rain wash away every undesirable part of her.

Her eyes catch sight of the dress in the reflection of the glass. Tension snaps back into place along the lines of her shoulders.

With a heavy sigh, she stands and heads to the bathroom to prepare for the day. Makeup would come on later. For now, she settles for washing her face and tying up her hair. The emptiness in her has little to do with hunger, but if she wants to keep from passing out at the gala, she has to eat.

The thought of food makes her feel nauseous, actually, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary.

The hotel employees don’t greet her with more than a nod of their heads. Chloe ignores them and tries to slip into the shadows as she heads to the kitchen to ask for breakfast.

Chef Cesaire doesn’t speak beyond greeting her when Chloe enters. The smile is fixed and rigid on her face. Chloe turns away and waits. Much of the kitchen staff is still preparing food for the hotel guests, a few dishes being carted out to the dining hall.

“Is there anything in particular you would like today, Miss Bourgeois?” Chef Cesaire asks as she whips up a bowl of batter.

Chloe shrugs. “Just something small. I don’t care.”

“Very well. It’ll be out in a moment. Why don’t you go sit down?”

Translation: Get out of the kitchen. You’re in the way.

Chloe listens to the scripted words and the unsaid meaning, and makes her leave. Already something dark festers in her chest, weighing her down. Her eyes feel hot and she ducks her head to blink back the tears before they have a chance to gather. She knows it’s going to be a bad day. She just wishes she could continue her self-isolation and watch the rain fall.

The gala is making her eat. The gala is forcing her to spend time with a father she doesn’t know how to speak to truthfully. The gala is pushing her out of her room where it’s easy to hide and carve out every part of herself that she hates.

 _Fuck this gala,_ she thinks savagely as she takes a seat next to a large window. _Is it too much to ask to be left alone all summer?_

The answer will always be _yes_ and Chloe hates it. She finds herself wishing she had been born someone else, someone normal and not broken and _good_.

A bowl of fruits, some toast, and a bowl of coffee are set down in front of her gently. Nothing looks appetizing. She mumbles her thanks anyways and picks up a blackberry, turning it under the light and wondering if she could stomach all this food. It’s more than she’s eaten any other day since she came back from that disastrous day at school.

She pops it into her mouth before she can talk herself into leaving without eating anything. The last thing she wants is more attention and passing out at a gala tends to get people to pay more attention to her.

Chloe eats in mechanical motions, forcing down mouthful after mouthful of food. The coffee helps, just a little, but she still leaves half the toast on the plate.

She pushes the plate away and heads back to her room. No one would question her not eating. If they did, they would assume it’s another one of those times a rich girl starved herself in the name of perfection. It’s easier to mock those girls than it is to mock girls who don’t eat because they can’t find the energy to get up and exist.

Chloe makes sure to lock her door behind her when she gets to her room. The tightness in her chest lessens a bit and leaves her feeling weak-kneed and unsteady.

Her phone is still on her desk, off and untouched. She hesitates for only a moment before turning it on. It’s been almost a week since she last had it on.

Wrapping a thin blanket around her shoulders, Chloe goes back to the window seat to curl up and indulge in the comfort rain brings before checking her phone.

Over 70 new messages, god knows how many emails, and 38 missed calls.

Dread curls in her stomach, cold and heavy, as she opens up her call log to flick through and see who would call so much.

Two missed calls from her father.

Eleven from Adrien (her heart twists and sinks at the sight of his name).

Everything else is from Sabrina.

Swallowing heavily, Chloe moves onto messages.

Two from Alya. Three from Marinette. They say a few snappy remarks about being late and having no work ethic, although Marinette’s is a little less _what’s your problem_ and a little more _thanks for finally bringing in your poems! we could have used them a little sooner though._

Around thirty come from Adrien, all worried messages asking if she’s alright, asking what exactly those poems meant, reassuring her that they were friends and repeatedly telling her that if she ever needed help, he’d do everything he can to help her.

Plastic words. Empty. Fake. Chloe can’t believe any of them to be true. She doesn’t reply.

Sabrina (of course it’s Sabrina, it’s _always_ Sabrina) makes up the rest of her messages. Each message ranges from _are you okay?_ to _there’s a new clothing line out from PrettyGal!_

Somehow, even without seeing her, Sabrina knows exactly what to say. She offers words of support and concern that make Chloe’s throat tighten up and her eyes water, but after the first few messages, it turns into little stories and everything she wants to talk to Chloe about.

Though Chloe never takes what anyone says at face value, never believes them to tell the truth, she wants more than anything to believe in Sabrina.

Just this once, Chloe wants to take a risk and let Sabrina in, tell her everything, and give everything she’s kept close to her chest all these years.

But every doubt and fear rises up in Chloe’s mind and tells her _no, that’s a terrible idea, you’ll ruin your only friendship and while you want to push her away you know it would hurt to much._

She smothers those thoughts and pushes everything away and types out a message for Sabrina.

 _Gala tonight,_ she writes, hitting send before she can second guess herself.

It takes only a minute for Sabrina to reply, despite the early morning and how she loves to sleep in during the summer.

 

_From Sabrina: I’m going with my dad! Will you be there?_

 

Taking a deep breath, Chloe replies _Yes_ and sets her phone face down. She has a gala to mentally prepare for, after all. There’s no time to linger on bitter, fractured thoughts of Adrien and her father and how she’s falling apart faster now that she doesn’t have to pretend so much.

The rain keeps falling.

She’ll keep on falling with it.


	8. Dance

The car ride to the gala is silent and tense. Her father attempts to make conversation, all small talk as though she were one of his old acquaintances rather than his daughter. Chloe sets her jaw and stares stubbornly out the window, drawing up every image of teenage angst and rebellion to close herself off.

He gets the message after a few questions, and settles back into the seat awkwardly.

The radio barely plays loud enough to be heard. Chloe ignores it. Ignores everything and tries to breathe through the cement in her lungs and the ache between her ribs.

Her eyes remain stubbornly dry despite how much she wants to break down.

The next few minutes pass in quick heartbeats until they arrive at Intercontinental Paris Le Grand. Already the building was lit up, glowing against the dark sky. Music pours out of the doors, the sweet sounds of a classical orchestra, and mixes with the rumble of conversation. Reporters line up alongside the stairs, snapping pictures of everyone who enters and jotting down names and outfits in their notepads.

Chloe gets out of the car before her father can offer her a hand, and walks ahead of him, head held high as her eyes adjust to the bright flashes of light. Her dress trails along the ground, and she lifts up the hem to avoid stepping on the fabric with her heels. It works to hide the shaking of her hands too, from the sudden onslaught of attention she’s managed to avoid the past week.

She walks straight up the stairs, not pausing when she hears her father be pulled aside to speak to a reporter, and ignores any calls of her name.

Inside, Intercontinental Paris Le Grand is sparkling and gold, the picture perfect image of luxury. Men in fitted suits and women in elegant dresses hold flutes of champagne as they chat. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling and the walls seem to be lined with gold. Arrangements of flowers covered every table and lined the room.

Chloe hates it.

Every laugh is fake, every smile used to manipulate. Some people may genuinely like others, but it never stopped being a game of power. She liked it once, but now Chloe’s tired and doesn’t want anything to do with them.

She walks forward and joins the throng of people, moving through them with years of practice turning her steps light and graceful. A few people try to stop her, grab her attention and drag her into conversation. Chloe nods at them in acknowledgement and keeps going.

She made it in.

She can make it out.

Her father had only told her to go to the gala, after all. He never said she couldn’t leave once she arrived.

The lively music of the orchestra changes into something a little slower, but still light and energetic. Chloe escapes to a wall near a table full of finger foods and looks around the room. There’s a group of people dancing in front of the orchestra, spinning  and swaying with perfectly practiced motions. Her eyes catch a flash of red hair, and suddenly.

Sabrina.

She dances with her father, laughing and enjoying the night. The dance moves them away, hidden by other bodies before Chloe can get a good look, but the brief glimpse leaves her heart pounding in her chest regardless.

“Chloe!”

The sudden voice startles her, and she flinches back as she turns, watching Adrien bound up to her with a smile.

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to see you tonight,” he says when he reaches her side. His eyes flicker around her face for a moment, concern clear in the quick downturn of his mouth. “You look nice,” he adds, because this is Adrien and Adrien is nothing if not polite.

Chloe lets her eyes flick over his form quickly, and says, “You don’t look too bad either.”

Adrien shifts on his feet as Chloe keeps her eyes glued on the couples dancing, trying not to seek out that flash of red again no matter how much she wants to.

The silence between them is tense, and Chloe is all too aware of every glance he takes of her, of the way he bites his bottom lip with worry, of the way he fiddles with the buttons of his suit. She knows what he wants to say, and the thoughts warring in his head and he tries to drag the words out of his throat. The waiting sets her on edge, tense and prepared to flee to safety.

He doesn’t say anything.

Chloe snaps first.

“Just say it,” she hisses out, resolutely not looking at him.

Adrien steels himself, straightens his back and angles his shoulders towards her. “Are you okay?” he asks, eyes wide and sincere. “You haven’t been acting like yourself lately.”

“Haven’t been acting like a demon disguised as a brat, you mean?”

He startles at the venom in her voice and blinks. “What? No. I just mean you’ve been quieter and more withdrawn. You barely looked at anyone during the last week of school and you haven’t talked to anyone since you walked out.”

Chloe scowls. “Did you ever think that maybe I didn’t _want_ to talk to anyone? That maybe I wanted to be alone?”

“Any other time I would have left you alone, but I’m worried about you.”

“You can stop worrying. You’ve seen me and talked to me and everything.” Chloe lifts a hand to look at her nails, leaning her weight onto one foot to look as uninterested as possible.

Adrien’s too used to that game to let it deter him. “But you never said that you were okay.”

Chloe flinches. Damn, she thinks. He wasn’t supposed to still be focused on that. But it’s always been one of Adrien’s best traits; taking care of his friends, pushing them until he knows how to help, even when they don’t want anyone helping them.

She honestly can’t understand _why_ he would push her that way. He found better friends and left her behind no matter how hard she tried to bring him back.

They weren’t friends. Not anymore.

“Sabrina’s been really worried too,” Adrien adds, and that catches her attention.

“Sabrina?” Chloe repeats, turning to properly look at him.

He nods. “She’s been texting me a lot, asking if I had heard from you or if you even read any of my messages. She’s been really worried.”

Chloe swallows heavily and tries not to cry. If she had known how much it was worrying Sabrina maybe she would have come out of her self-isolated state sooner. She never wanted Sabrina to worry about her. She could barely comprehend the fact that someone so wonderful cared about her, especially when she’s been crueler than usual in an attempt to hide her own problems. Sabrina shouldn’t care about her at all, yet she set dozens of messages trying to reach Chloe and Chloe can’t figure out what’s kept an angel by her side for so long.

“I saw the messages,” Chloe manages to get out.

“After a week,” Adrien counters.

She shrugs. “Does it really matter? I saw them and I’m here now. I’m clearly fine.”

“The poems--”

“Forget the poems!” Chloe snaps. “Forget you ever saw them, forget they exist, forget that they have anything to do with me!” She takes a breath and looks away from a gobsmacked Adrien. “Just. Forget it.”

“I _can’t_ ,” he says, “They’re the most honest things I’ve ever seen about you and--”

She turns on him, snarling. “And they’re private. No one was ever supposed to see them! But you took them and looked at them and you _scared_ me.” There are tears in her eyes now, tears that she desperately blinks back. She’s wearing mascara; if she cries now, it’ll be too noticeable.

“Chloe--”

“Leave it. And leave me alone while you’re at it.” She turns and storms away, sticking to the walls of the room as she searches for a place to hide. There’s a door that leads outside to a patio, and she can almost feel the fresh air and quiet that the door promises.

She pauses with her fingers wrapped around the handle and glances back to where she left Adrien. He’s frozen, staring at her with a look of devastation on his face.

 _I did that,_ she thinks and feels her heart break and pierce her lungs. Somehow, she had never managed to hurt him in all her years of knowing him. But one night, one moment of all the wrong things said, and she’d broken him.

She leaves when her throat chokes on a sob, escapes outside and away from the many prying eyes of the gala.

The air outside is cool and damp from the rain earlier that day, but the sensation of suffocation stays with her. She’s not getting enough air, no matter how many deep breaths she takes. Chloe stumbles into the railing of the patio and grips the metal with her hands hard enough that she feels it bite into her skin.

The cold of the metal grounds her, brings her back from the whirlpool of emotions she was drowning in. Chloe lets out a long, shuddering breath and blinks the last of the tears from her eyes.

Above her, there’s a flash of red.

_Ladybug._

Chloe feels her breath catch in her throat and can’t look away from the graceful figure sailing through the air between the far off stars.

Ladybug comes closer and closer, until she drops the ground suddenly, landing on the other side of the patio.

That’s right. Ladybug was invited to the gala. Chloe wants to hit herself for forgetting.

She’s staring at the hero, eyes wide, feeling terrified at how beautiful she finds Ladybug, when she turns and faces Chloe.

Ladybug offers a small smile. “Hello,” she says, voice sweet and high, “I am late for the gala?”

Chloe swallows and looks away. “It started a while ago, but there’s still hours until it ends. You’re fine.”

“Should I go in from here…?” She gestures at the door leading into the hotel, hesitant and nervous enough that it makes Chloe frown.

“You can,” Chloe answers, “But I believe you’re expected to make a grand entrance at the _actual_ entrance.” When Ladybug doesn’t move, Chloe adds, “It’s around the building, has stairs and tons of reporters. Can’t miss it.”

Ladybug steps closer with a frown and asks, “Are you okay? You seem rather upset.”

“I’m _fine._ You can leave now.”

“You’re usually much more excited to see me.”

“There are more people excited to meet you inside the gala,” Chloe snaps, voice tight, “You should go and actually meet them.”

Ladybug takes another step closer. Chloe leans away, wary and tense; the bright feelings of admiration and -- and (she can’t say it) -- have disappeared under the fear of her once idol discovering her secrets.

Logically, there’s no way Ladybug can figure out what Chloe feels for her just with one conversation. But she’s a superhero, so logical doesn’t fully apply to her.

Chloe feels a little sick under Ladybug’s gaze and, just this once, wants her to go away. Ladybug steps closer.

“I snapped at Adrien,” Chloe blurts, because that’s the one problem she can actually talk about.

Ladybug freezes. “What?”

“He was pushing me to talk and I-- I just snapped. As awful as I am, I’ve never snapped at him before.” Chloe swallows heavily, looking up to the stars. “He looked so hurt it made me want to cry.”

“Why don’t you go apologize to him? Talk things out?”

“I don’t know how to.”

There’s nothing Ladybug can say to that, so she stays silent as she takes in Chloe’s words.

An idea hits her. Two birds, one stone. “Can you--” Chloe pauses, gathers her thoughts, and says, “Adrien’s a huge fan of yours. If anyone can cheer him up, it’s you. Can you go make sure he’s okay?”

Ladybug draws herself up, determination lighting her endlessly blue eyes. “Of course,” she says. “Take care of yourself, alright Chloe?”

With those parting words, Ladybug swings away on her yo-yo to the front of the hotel, safely away from Chloe, who draws in a deep breath, grateful for the solitude. A snap of cold wind whips around her, bringing goosebumps to her skin. The sleeveless gown she wears doesn’t offer any warmth, but a little cold never killed anyone.

A cheer goes up inside the hotel.

Ladybug must have made her entrance. Chloe doesn’t look.

The people inside chatter loudly, the indistinct voices merging together and overpowering the soft sounds of the orchestra. There are a few cheers mixed in from the louder, shameless fans of Ladybug.

(That was her, once, standing in the crowd shouting her love for Ladybug. That had been her, once, when love meant something else entirely.)

Underage drinking is nothing new to her, but Sabrina had always turned down her alcohol and Chloe followed afterwards with some sense of not wanting to be seen as less than perfect. But right then, with no Sabrina or Adrien or Ladybug, all Chloe wants is to drink until she can’t remember who she is anymore.

She’d only be able to get away with it once before her father watches what she drinks to make sure she doesn’t tarnish the Bourgeois name.

Chloe sighs and lets her head fall, pressing it against the railing at letting the cold of the metal soothe her.

She stays there, eyes closed and finding peace in the quiet of the night and the loneliness it brings. Her thoughts are miraculously quiet for once and all she wants is to stay there forever.

The door opens behind her, and a timid voice calls out, “Chloe?”

She lifts her head and the sound and turns to face Sabrina, who hurries to her side, hands twisting with worry.

“What are you doing out here?” she asks. “Aren’t you cold?”

Chloe shrugs. “It’s nice out.”

“Are you okay?”

There’s the question everyone keeps asking her. Chloe closes her eyes and counts to ten, trying to keep her cool, then turns to meet Sabrina’s eyes.

Her voices catches for a moment, in the back of her throat, before she says, “Just tired. Been better though.”

Sabrina offers a comforting smile and Chloe holds the memory of it close to her heart. “Do you want to me get you anything to drink?”

“No. Just. Stay with me.”

Chloe wants to shove her phone into her mouth and choke back all the emotions that rise up in her. Saying such an obvious thing; it’s a wonder that no one’s caught on the the _wrongness_ inside her. It’s unusual for her to say such things, but Sabrina doesn’t think anything of it, just hums in a way that doesn’t tell Chloe anything, and stays by her side.

“The gala’s really nice,” Sabrina says, looking out to the Parisian lights.

“Sure,” Chloe says, too lost in curve of Sabrina’s lips and the moonlight on her cheeks.

“Ladybug came.”

“I know. She talked to me before she went in.”

Sabrina turns to her, excited and smiling. “Really?! What did she say, how was she? I’m so jealous I wish I could talk to Ladybug!”

She leans closer to Chloe, but Chloe can’t find it in her to move away. “Just asked me if she was late for the gala,” she answers.

Sabrina sighs wistfully. “Still, it must have been incredible! Talking to a _hero_ . What I wouldn’t give to spend time with her. Or dance with her!” 

“I didn’t think you’d like dancing.”

“Oh! Well, I don’t do it much,” Sabrina answers, flustered, “But it’s fun! I danced a bit with my dad, but I wish someone else would dance with me, you know?”

Chloe absolutely hates her lack of self-control when the next words out of her mouth are, “Dance with me then.”

Silence stretches between them for a few terrifying heartbeats, and Chloe can feel her throat close and her lungs wither with the oncoming rejection, disbelieve, _disgust_ \--

“Really?” Sabrina’s voice is quiet. She looks away, bashful, and worries her teeth on her lower lip in a motion Chloe struggles to look away from. “Would you really dance with me?”

“No one else is out here to dance, are they?”

“Guess not,” Sabrina giggles, and grabs one of Chloe’s hands. “Let’s dance then!”

There’s a smile pulling at her lips and Chloe can’t find the strength to push it down. She lays a hand on Sabrina’s waist, light and barely touching, still tense with nerves as Sabrina shuffles closer and starts swaying them in time to the muffles music of the orchestra. Her green eyes stay locked on Chloe’s face, smiling softly. Chloe swallows her heart back into her ribcage and resists the urge to pull Sabrina closer.

 _What are you doing,_ a poisonous voice in her mind whispers.

_What are you doing. Anyone can see you. Do you want them to know what a freak you are?_

Shut up, she thinks back, Let me have this. Just for one night, let me have this.

_They’ll know._

Chloe feels sick, feels her hands begin to shake, feels the phantom hands wrap around her throat and begin to choke her. They’ve only danced to one song, but it hurts so much Chloe pulls away as soon as the music fades out.

“Chloe?” Sabrina asks, worried, as her hands drop back to her sides.

“I need to go,” she whispers, and disappears back into the gala.

Bodies press against her, and some voices call out greetings to her. All she can hear is her heart beating too loud, loud enough for the whole of Paris to hear, and escapes back outside, phone out and calling a cab.

 _They know,_ the voice whispers again.

This time, Chloe can’t fight back the tears that spring up.

Her head is filled with thoughts of Ladybug, and the feeling of Sabrina’s body beneath her hands, and Adrien’s broken expression. She’s never had a worse night out.

She freezes before she turns off her phone, and sends off one last message.

_To Adrien: Sorry._


	9. Collapse

The phones stays off for another week; isolation is her only comfort and she’s too afraid of the words she’ll find staring up at her on that screen to look. 

There have been two akumas that week, and Chloe only heard during the evening news when she went down to the kitchen for something small to eat. She watches with empty eyes, feeling hollow and numb as the heroes fly across the screen to save Paris. After those two times, she did her best to ignore the news, eating with her headphones on and music playing loud enough to make her head hurt; anything was better than being reminded of Ladybug and the gala and everything Chloe is.

She wakes up early in the morning of the beginning of the third week with a feeling that something was going to happen. The sky was clear, a cheerful blue that grew more vibrant as the sun rose. Chloe pulls the curtains shut and lays in bed for another two hours before she decides to get a small breakfast to keep herself from withering away, no matter how much she wants too. 

One of the chefs hand her a bowl of fruit and Chloe takes it without really processing what she’s doing. She leaves the kitchen without saying a word, barely catching the chef mutter something about ungrateful brats.

It doesn’t hurt anymore, hearing those words, the way it did when she was little.

She’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. 

Chloe retreats to her room again, taking care to avoid looking anyone in the eye and sticking close to the walls as she makes her way through the hallways. No one’s in the elevator, and she holds down the close button to make sure no one got on with her. The few minutes of quiet and isolation help her calm down from her brief appearance in the kitchen, the walls visible to her, closing her in, away from watching eyes and whispering voices. 

The elevator music was still annoying, though.

When she gets to her room and sets the bowl down on the windowsill, she’s hit with a sudden nervous energy. The air around her is charged with tension and her heart beats too fast in her chest. 

Something’s happening.

_ Move _ her body tells her, but Chloe’s stuck wide-eyed and shaking, rooted to the floor. 

The window next to her explodes, something crashing into her room. Glass shards go flying, and Chloe throws her arms up in front of her face on instinct. The glass cuts her arms, leaves stinging lines of red that have already began to bead with blood. She can feel some of the shards lodge themselves into her arms, but nothing hits her face or her neck, so she brushes it aside and tries to understand what’s going on.

Here’s what she sees:

  1. Someone’s in her room, looking around, angry and confused. Their scowling, little black feathers surrounding their eyes like a mask. A ballerina, judging from the tutu made of feathers. There’s also feathers on her arms, draping down in what could almost be wings.
  2. She’s clearly an akuma. Black swan, maybe?
  3. The akuma is scowling at _her_ , eyes red and angry.



Chloe steps back, hands raised in front of herself defensively. The akuma opens her mouth, but before she can get a single word out, Ladybug and Chat Noir crash into her room behind the akuma.

“Stop right there!” Ladybug shouts, twirling her yo-yo.

“What a wild goose chase you’ve lead us on!” Chat Noir says with a laugh, baton extended in front of him. He’s crouched, ready to attack, when he catches sight of Chloe. His eyes widen, but the akuma steals his attention away before Chloe can decipher the stricken expression that crossed his face. 

“I am Black Swan, not a goose!” she cries out, then flings an arm forward. Black feathers hurl through the air, razor sharp. Ladybug deflects them easily with a few swings of her yo-yo. One is sent towards Chloe, who barely moves as it grazes her arm. 

“Chloe!” Chat shouts, running to her. “It’s not safe here!” He hooks an arm around her waist, then looks back at Ladybug, who circles Black Swan warily. 

She looks up at them, blue eyes bright and fierce. “Get her somewhere safe, Chat!”

Black Swan whirls on them, a terrifying look in her eyes. “No one’s leaving,” she hisses, “You’re all to be the background dancers to the show I deserve to be the star of!”

“If you were talented enough to be the star, you would be,” Chloe says, tired, egging on the akuma. “Just accept that you’re not good enough and quit throwing a tantrum. If you’re that upset, just get better.”

Black Swan howls with rage and throws her arms out, spinning to send a flurry of knife-sharp feathers at her. Chloe feels no fear; she doesn’t feel anything. She watches the feathers approach in slow motion, and wants each one to hit her, go through her body, and leave her to bleed out. 

_ ‘I deserve it,’  _ she thinks,  _ ‘I deserve to die like this.’ _

But Chat pulls her away. He tightens his grip on her, holds her close, and runs to the windows. He throws his baton forward then jumps, using the baton to vault them out of her room and to a nearby roof. Chloe closes her eyes against the sting of wind, and when she opens them, her feet steady underneath her, Chat’s got both hands on her shoulders, looking her over with worried eyes. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. He brushes a hand over the bleeding grazes on her arms with a look of sadness. “Let’s hope Ladybug can fix that,” he mutters, frown pulling at his lips.

“You should have left me,” she says, voice soft and emotionless. 

Chat looks up to meet her eyes “What?”

“You should have let her hit me.”

“What? Why?!”

She shoves him away. “Just go help Ladybug. Take me back to my room once it’s safe.”

Chat hesitates for a moment, then jumps away to help Ladybug. Chloe sinks to the ground, places her head between her knees, and lets herself shake and blink back tears. 

She’d said too much. She didn’t know why, but looking at Chat, everything started to spill out. Not a single lie passed her lips; Chat knew more than anyone else. She grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls harshly. 

_ Stupid! _

Saying all that, to a  _ hero,  _ of all things. She hadn’t been thinking, but that doesn’t change anything. Tears slip down her cheeks, and Chloe chokes back a sob. Someone knows now, and it terrifies her. 

Someone knows.

Chat Noir knows. Ladybug, too, since Chat would probably tell her.

Chloe bites her lip, just to have the pain bring her out of her mind, and wipes away her tears. She’d just have to laugh it off, act like the spoiled brat again. It had only been a week; it shouldn’t be any work to get Chat to hate her. 

Another window shatter, the glass falling into the street like crystal rain. Ladybug’s voice crosses over the distance between her and Chloe; she sound  _ pissed _ . Black feathers shoot out from the broken windows, sharp and glistening under the sunlight, then fade away into nothing when they get too far from Black Swan. 

Chloe falls to her knees and resigns herself to waiting for it all the end. The white shorts she wears as pajamas were dirty, covered in dirt and some blood. The rough cement of the rooftop dug into her knees and calves; she can already tell that she’s going to have bruises. 

Black Swan jumps out the window, then, twirling and leaping through the air in lieu of flying, the feathers of her costume dancing in the wind. Ladybug and Chat follow, though not without a worried glance her way. Just as quickly as they appeared, they vanished into the streets of Paris. Sounds of fighting and destruction barely reach her, she’s so high up from the rest of the world.

Chloe tilts her head back, turning her face up to the sky. There’s a soft breeze playing with strands of her hair. The sun is warm against her skin. She doesn’t know why she feels like crying. But the tears come up anyways, falling from the corners of her closed eyes. Chloe wipes them away and takes a deep breath. 

It’s so quiet up there. It’s so quiet.

She doesn’t want it to end.

But a warm glow washes over her, painting the insides of her eyelids pink. The sting of her wounds fades away like they never happened. When Chloe opens her eyes, the windows to her room are fixed.

Miraculous cure has fixed Paris once more.

The danger has passed, but Chloe makes no moves to go back. Instead, she stands on weak legs and makes her way to the edge of the roof. She stares down at the busy streets, where people and cars rush about as though the akuma attack had never happened. The grounds so far away.

Part of her wants to see how long it would take to reach the ground.

She turns her head back up to the sky instead, and wishes she could fly, twirling into the atmosphere like Black Swan.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, but by the time she hears Chat’s voice again, the sound is nearly lost beneath the ringing in her ears. Chloe turns to face him and swallows down the sudden nausea that rose with the movement. He says something, mouth moving, but no words reach Chloe. She blinks, sluggish, and feeling far too weak. The roof shifts and sways beneath her feet, and she’s suddenly all too aware of the empty space behind her.

And then the world slips away from her, and the last thing she remembers is Chat’s hand reaching out to her, and the look of horror on his face that reminded her of Adrien in all the wrong ways. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote a little companion piece to this chapter, following ladybug and chat during patrol the night of the akuma attack and discussing chloe. 
> 
> you can read it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12817968) if you want


	10. Catalyst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise there's be happier things in coming chapters (mostly chloe w sabrina, so prepare for secret lesbians)

When she opens her eyes, the world is unchanged. No glass shards decorate the floor of her room. Not cuts sting and bead with blood on her arms. No akuma screams in anger as it sends feathers as sharp as knives to her.

She opens her eyes, lost in what is dream and what is real; she’s in her bed, almost like she never got up in the first place.

But when Chloe moves to sit, there’s the distinct sound of footsteps that reaches her ears, muffled by the carpet. Chat Noir enters her line of sight just a moment later, face pinched with worry that fades into relief.

Chloe takes a breath, and suddenly, the world throws itself into motion again, destroying the quiet peace in the room.

“Chloe!” Chat cries, rushing towards her, “Are you alright? How are you feeling?”

“What happened?” she asks, ignoring his worry and batting his hands away when they flit over her hesitantly, checking for injuries while being too scared to actually touch her. (Chloe wants to laugh at the thought: a superhero with the power of destruction, scared of touching her. It turns bitter when she thinks that she’s cause more destruction than Chat Noir ever could.)

Chat steps back and looks away. He messes with the end of his leather tail. “You passed out.” His voice is quiet and emotionless, stone-hard; it’s a voice of detachment. She’s heard it enough times when she disassociates, though it’s usually her own voice sounding unnatural.

“Oh.” Chloe blinks. Chat doesn’t move. She picks at a stray thread in her blanket. “I must have pushed myself a little too hard. Did too much and my body couldn’t keep up. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to-- Of course it’s something to worry about!” Chat explodes, whipping his head around to stare at her incredulously, eyes sharp and piercing in their disbelief and anger. “You fell off a roof! You could have died!”

A pause. And then: “Okay.”

“No. Not okay.”  
  
Chloe shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. You saved me. Let’s move on.”

Chat narrows his eyes into a glare and steps forward, hands on his hips like a scolding mother. “We will not move on. This is serious! You almost died; you looked like you were going to jump but just happened to pass out instead. Those are not things we move on from. Those are not things we ignore. It’s not something _I_ will ignore. Got it?”

“Just _leave it,_ ” Chloe hisses in sudden anger. Chat reels back, shocked, hurt flickering in his expression for a brief moment that reminded Chloe of Adrien at the gala, Adrien after she snapped at him, Adrien at her house in tears telling her how his father forgot his birthday and _“I wish Maman was still here.”_

For a moment, all Chloe can see is the genuine parts of Adrien that he hides away from everyone; the pain, loneliness, longing. Her heart breaks for him, and seeing Chat like that has it shatter all over again.

She looks away, setting her jaw. _Don’t think of him,_ she scolds herself, _Don’t think of any of them. Chat doesn’t even look like Adrien. Stop thinking about him._

“I left a bowl of fruit on my desk. Can you get it for me?” she asks as a way of changing the topic.

Chat looks around for a moment, then spots the bowl and crosses the room to grab it. “Is this really the time to be eating?” he asks, handing the bowl to her and hovering, worried, at her side.

“I’ve barely been eating. That’s why I passed out.”

“Oh.”

The silence that follows would be horribly awkward for Chloe if she could bring herself to care, but she can’t, so she leaves Chat to fidget at her side as she eats slowly, forcing the food down until she’s eaten everything, despite how much she’d rather throw it up. She really doesn’t want to eat. Logically, she knows she needs to if she’s to keep living, but lately it’s felt as though there’s no point to it. She couldn’t stomach much, and what she could swallow down barely had any taste. It wasn’t devoid of taste, but it was so dull she might as well have been swallowing down cement.

When she sets the bowl down onto the bed, Chat watches her with sad eyes, foreign on his face.

“Chloe,” he starts, gentle, laying a hand on her shoulder, “If there’s something wrong, you can tell me you know. Or someone else, but I am here to help if you need it.”

“There are better people to save.”

“You’re important too.”

Chloe looks away, setting her jaw and stubbornly refusing to let the tears that gather in her eyes fall. “I don’t see why you care. You have other things to worry about.”

“I care because you’re not okay, and I want you to be okay.”

The words crawl up her throat; every truth she’s been hiding begs to be spilled out into the open, to stop suffocating her, to relieve her of the burden of carrying them. Chat Noir is offering to help, to listen, to understand, but a large part of her is terrified of letting the truth come out. After years of hiding everything she is, all the things she felt, the sudden exposure scares her.

But her control is already weak. If Chat keeps pushing, she knows she’ll tell him everything.

And that.

That can’t happen. Chloe won’t let it.

“You’re my age, aren’t you?” Chloe asks, startling Chat. He hesitates for a moment before nodding. “You’re my age. You’re barely a hero. What makes you think you can do anything to help me? You have the power of destruction; what help can you do? Ladybug is more suited to the whole ‘saving people’ thing but you, Chat, you have no place trying to act like a hero.”

He flinches back at her harsh words, spit out like burning poison. “Chloe--” he starts, sounding broken and hurt and lost, but she cuts him off before she can mess things up even more.

“Get out.”

“...What?”

Chloe turns on him, eyes flashing. “I said, _get out_. You’ve checked up on me, I’m fine. Stop wasting my time and leave.” Her face twists into a snarl and she pushes him away. Chat doesn’t even try to fight, and somehow that fact feels like a knife plunging into her chest. He stumbles away, still looking so sad and so worried, then mumbles something to the floor.

He leaps out the window before another word can be said.

The silence that follows rings in her ears.

First Adrien, now Chat Noir. Next it’ll be Sabrina and won’t that be great.

“Well done Chloe,” she says to herself, grabbing a fistful of hair to pull on it, relishing the pain, “You’ve fucked it all up again. Well done.”

After that, the most she can do is set the bowl onto her bedside table. Once she stumbles into bed again, Chloe pulls out her phone, turning it on, desperate for a distraction, to forget that horrible feeling that lingered after her conversation with Chat Noir.

Notifications for missed phone calls and text messages and emails pop up, but she ignores them all in favor of scrolling through her photo gallery.

Picture: two months before school ended, Chloe with her arm wrapped around Sabrina’s shoulders, blowing a kiss at the camera.

Picture: Chloe twirling in a new dress, silver with gold stitched patterns, with Sabrina’s reflection in the background mirror, holding the phone up to her face with a smile.

Picture: a public event from the beginning of the year. She and Adrien are bundled up for warmth, cheeks pressed together as they smiled at the cameras.

Everything she had that she’s lost, documented in her phone’s gallery. Everything she wishes she still had. Everything she wishes wouldn’t change. But they’ve already changed so much. She’s already changed so much.

She’s already ruined it all too much.

Chloe stops on a silly picture Sabrina insisted on taking, claiming it would look good to have a few cute pictures on her social media accounts alongside her more serious photos. The Chloe in the picture has a hand squishing Sabrina’s cheeks, pushing her mouth out until it resembles fish lips. Sabrina has two fingers behind Chloe’s head, giving her fake bunny ears. Her eyes are crossed while Chloe has her face scrunched up.

She can’t help but laugh at the picture, letting herself stare at Sabina without fear of anyone catching her. The hole in her heart aches at the sight of Sabrina, all too aware of the empty space besides her where Sabrina always is (was). Her laugh falters, cracks.

And if her broken laugh turns into sobs halfway through? Well, no one’s around to mention it.

No one’s around.

No one’s there.

No one at all.


	11. Pretend

It takes a few days for Chloe to pull herself as together as she could manage and gather her courage. She debated whether she should call or text, but fear of her voice failing her left Chloe typing and retyping her message to Sabrina for an entire day.

As much as she wants to throw her phone to the other side of her room and ignore it again, as much as she wants to stop stressing and let herself waste the summer away in isolation, the conversation with Chat Noir lingers in the dregs of her memory, pushing itself to the forefront of her mind whenever she falters and tries to fall back into old habits. The stricken expression on Chat’s face turns into the pain on Adrien’s, and reminds Chloe all too much of how she’s messed everything up. Of how she’s pushed away all the people who’ve tried to help her, despite how much she knows she needs it. Of how she can’t bear to push Sabrina away too, so she’ll work to keep her close.

Taking a deep breath, Chloe looks over her message one more time, hits send, and tries not to throw up from nerves.

 

_To Sabrina: You wanna hang out? I’m bored and we haven’t really done anything this summer._

_From Sabrina: Of course! What do you wanna do? I know a few boutiques that put up new summer collections if you don’t have any plans!_

 

_To Sabrina: It’s too hot to go out. Why do you come over and we can do whatever?_

 

_From Sabrina: Sounds good! Oh!! Could I sleep over?_

 

_To Sabrina: Sure. Stay as many nights as you want._

 

_From Sabrina: I’d never leave then, haha! Is three days okay?_

 

_To Sabrina: Sure. Come over whenever you want tomorrow._

 

And that’s that, it seems. Chloe let out a long exhale, suddenly tired from the stress of sounding as normal as possible. Chloe collapses onto her bed, throwing an arm over her eyes. Everything went fine. Right? Everything has to be fine.

She looks around her room.

Everything is _not_ fine.

The staff know not to enter her room when she’s in it, and for the past week, Chloe hasn’t go anywhere else. The dress from the gala is thrown and crumpled in a corner, and various pieces of clothing from when she tried to force herself to go out lay scattered on the floor. Chloe curses herself and stumbles off her bed to start gathering up her clothes. She’d throw them into the closet without care if she wasn’t so paranoid of Sabrina seeing that too, so she hangs them up as neatly as she can manage.

It takes a good hour to get the floor cleaned up; the constant bending down and standing back up has Chloe tired and her muscles beginning to ache. She looks down at her hand, already so much thinner than before, and hates herself just a little more -- the bones of her hand show a little too clearly and it’s so noticable Chloe wonders how she missed it before. It’s not surprising, what with how little she’s been eating, but to get this bad?

Chloe drops her hand and turns her gaze away.

She really needs help. She just doesn’t know how to get it.

Her desk is covered in torn out pages of notebooks and pens. The notebooks themselves are tossed onto the floor around the desk, left there after she swept them off the desk in a fit of frustration.

Many of the pages are bend and wrinkled, but it’s not so bad that she can’t use them. Chloe smoothes them out best she can, and slowly gathers all the notebooks in her arms. She moves to put them on the desk, but freezes when she sees what a mess it is, and sets the notebooks down on the chair instead.

She begins to grab all the papers, eyes skimming over the words she’s written.

   

    _Is the only way to hold someone’s heart_

_to cut it out of their chest?_

_And what of my heart? What will you do for it?_

 

_-_

 

_Even in a thousand different universes I’d never deserve you.,_

_But the selfishness that consumes me won’t let you go._

_It’ll take death to tear us apart, if only because my claws are too deep in your chest._

 

_-_

 

_Nights last too long for me._

_Sleep never comes easy, but the dreams last long after I wake._

_Dream: I am happy._

_Truth: I don’t deserve happiness._

 

“Wow,” Chloe says out loud as she looks through her messy handwriting and 3AM poems, “These are awful.” But her eyes drag along the lines of smudged ink again and she can’t bring herself to ball up the paper and throw them away, so she shoves them into a drawer and tries to make herself forget the words that spilled out of her when she was barely conscious. “I can make them into something better later,” she reasons with herself as she slams the drawer shut and tries not to think about who she was writing about, who her sleepy mind immediately thought of.

Which, of course, brought to the forefront of her mind _Sabrina._

“Oh my god, I can’t do this,” Chloe says, dragging her hands down her face and sinking to the floor in despair. There were thousands of ways she could mess everything up with Sabrina, push her away and lose her forever. Each possibility races through her mind, making her more and more anxious.

The most dominant thought was of how Sabrina would somehow find out what Chloe felt about her, find out that Chloe is gay and looks at her as more than a friend. She’s already stupidly blurted out her thoughts to Chat, surely it would happen again with Sabrina.

Chloe pushes herself off the floor and stumbles across the room only to collapse face down onto her bed. She takes a moment to scream into the comforter, letting the thick fabric muffle her voice, then reaches out blindly to grab her phone. She turns her head to look at the screen and open her texts. She hits the second name (there are only five contacts in her entire phone: Sabrina, Adrien, her father, the hotel’s number, and her father’s work phone. Chloe tries not to think about how little the world cares for her. She tries not to think about how only three people would actually bother to speak to her even when she’s away.)

 

_To Adrien: Help i can’t do this_

 

_From Adrien: ?!?!?!_

_From Adrien: Chloe are you okay?!_

 

 _‘What am I doing?’_ Chloe thinks staring at her impulsive message in horror. She stares at Adrien’s name, his contact photo (the one where he’s cross-eyed and sticking his tongue out; the one that shows the Adrien she loves like a brother), and remembers the sadness on his face at the gala, how she’d hurt him and pushed him away.

He probably hates her now; he really should hate her by now.

 

_To Adrien: Nevermind, it’s fine. I figured out what to do._

 

_From Adrien: Are you sure? If you need help I can help you._

_From Adrien: No matter what it is._

 

_From Adrien: Chloe?_

 

She tosses the phone back onto the bed and throws an arm over her face. She takes a few moments there, just breathing, closing her eyes against the tell tale burning of tears.

Sabrina is coming over tomorrow. All Chloe has to do is last three days with her, act as normal as possible, and prove that she’s not broken in any way.

Sucking in a lungful of air, Chloe sits up. She takes out her ponytail and reties it. She smoothes out all the wrinkles in her clothes. She actually goes to her closet and grabs something else to wear besides pajamas, and puts them on. Chloe puts on her makeup with a steady hand, blends everything until she looks healthy and the dark circles under her eyes are barely visible. And when she feels she’s presentable, feels like she’s the picture perfect copy of the Chloe from before everything changed, and leaves her room.

There’s a brief moment of fear that almost sends her back into her room to hide, but Chloe pushes it aside and purposefully strides down the hallway to the elevator.

 _‘There,’_ she thinks, _‘I can do it. I can be normal.’_

When she eats, that day, she’s able to swallow everything down. It still tastes dull, but the nausea has faded away into nothingness and Chloe can convince herself that she’s getting better.

The bones of her hands and wrists still poke out too much. She looks away from them, hides them under her blanket that night and shuts her eyes. She’s even almost able to stop herself from wishing she’d wake up in a grave.

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can u believe we're actually getting somewhere?
> 
> stay tuned for gay feelings (tm) and a lot of stuff going down next chap


	12. Shatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy this chapter has a lot
> 
> anyways: consistent chapter length? sorry, i don't know her. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

She wakes up crying.

It’s no different from any other morning, but whatever dreams brought her to tears leave a lingering feeling of despair and hopelessness. It sits heavy on her chest, pushing down on her lungs, forcing her ribcage tighter around her heart, and all Chloe can do is gasp out sobs and desperately try to wipe away the tears.

She cries for a long time. Longer than any other time dreams have left her crying in the mornings. Something in her aches, a feeling of hollowness, and it hurts so much she doesn’t know how she’ll ever get better.

She doesn’t know how long she lies in bed, curled up on her side trying to muffle her sobs and hide her tears in her pillow, but she’s able to calm herself down eventually. Her breath still hitches in her throat, but the tears stop. Her eyes feel heavy and swollen and she hates it. Out of all the days, she had to fall apart on the day Sabrina’s to see her.

Sunlight is already beginning to stretch across the room when Chloe finally manages to push herself out of bed. It’s still early, the sun just barely peeking over rooftops and the streets aren’t yet filled with people.

Despite the sore, empty feeling in her stomach, Chloe doesn’t move to get dressed and go down for breakfast. Instead, she makes her way to the window seat and settling down on the soft cushions. The sunlight is soft and warm where it hits her skin. The world’s just beginning to warm up.

Chloe drops her head to rest against the glass of the window and stares at the streets below her. Few people in suits hold cups of coffee and hurry to wherever they need to go. The morning rush hour is just beginning to fill the streets. Above them, a small flock of birds swoop through the air without any apparent intent, chirping and dancing in the morning light.

The longing hits her like a bus; to be free, and to be happy, dancing through the air like those birds. To be alive and feel every second of it. To know there’s a home waiting for her and others who care for her. To mean something.

Her eyes well up again.

Chloe presses her palms against her eyes and breathes until the burning sensation of tears disappears again. She takes one last look outside, then rises from the window seat and goes to the bathroom, walking away from the warm sunlight.

Her eyes are red and puffy when she looks into the mirror. She’s done this enough times to know what to do: cup her hands and fill them with cold water and gently press it against her face, until the water spills from her palms and she can press cold fingertips to the skin underneath her eyes. The water cools her eyes until the puffiness has gone away. The redness starts to fade as well, but the bruises under her eyes remain. Chloe ignores them and washes her face properly, then lets her mind wander as her hands go through the familiar motions of putting on makeup.

She doesn’t look too pale, but she’s still so thin. One day of attempting to eat wasn’t going to fix anything. It would take time. Chloe knows this, but she can’t help but wish everything wrong with her could be fixed instantaneously.

There are so many things she could fix. So many ways she could be better.

But she’s still broken, has been broken for years. There’s no changing the very core of her personality. No matter how much she wants to be anyone but herself.

Chloe doesn’t look at her reflection when she puts away her makeup. Doesn’t look up when she leaves the bathroom either.

She grabs her usual outfit and pulls it on, then heads downstairs with her phone in her hands. She can’t help but look through her old text conversations with Adrien, and only stops when the guilt is too much for her to endure.

She doesn’t look at Sabrina’s old messages. Looking for signs and meanings in her old texts would only hurt Chloe.

Somehow, she manages to force down everything on her plate for breakfast, along with coffee. It settles heavy in her stomach, making Chloe grimace, but she ignores it in favor of going going through all her social media as she heads back up to her room.

That’s when she gets the text that has her choking on her own heart.

 

_From Sabrina: Hey I’m here!_

_From Sabrina: Sorry if I’m too early, my dad had to go to work and he didn’t want me to come here alone._

 

Chloe swallows heavily, frozen in place. She wants to go down and greet Sabrina, but the mere thought of being alone with her in the elevator for so long has her terrified. ‘ _Oh god,’_ she thinks, ‘ _I can’t do this.’_

Her hands are already shaking a little.

 

_To Sabrina: It’s fine. Just come up to my room._

 

Taking deep breaths, Chloe forces herself to start moving again and go down the last stretch of hallway until she can reach her room. She collapses against the door when she makes it, and relishes in the last moments of being alone before she has to put on an act for the next three days. The room is clean, bed made, clothes completely put away. It looks like the room of someone who had everything they could ever need. It looks like the room of someone who isn’t falling apart.

‘Okay,’ Chloe thinks, ‘I can do this.’ But she doesn’t move away from the door, just stays there, letting it take all her weight, and breathes. Inhale, exhale, repeat. It’s a simple enough process, but Chloe can never get enough air in and her breaths shutter on each exhale, turning it into a shaky, unsteady sound.

There’s a soft knock on the door, and Chloe almost jumps in the air. She doesn’t though, just flinches violently at the noise, then forces her shoulders to relax away from her ears and turns around.

She doesn’t open the door immediately. She stares at it, tightens her ponytail, and tries to ignore the frantic beating of her heart.

When she opens the door three deep breaths later, Sabrina’s face breaks into a wide sunlit grin. “Chloe!” she says, voice lively and bright, “It feels like I haven’t see you in forever!” She leaps forward and crashes into Chloe, who stumbles back from the impact as Sabrina wraps her arms around her shoulders.

“How have you been?” she asks, right into Chloe’s ear, thankfully oblivious to the panic Chloe’s feeling because _Sabrina’s too close._ Every inch of her wants to wrap her arms around Sabrina’s waist, tug her closer until there’s no space between them. She wants to rest her head on Sabrina’s shoulder, mouth along the curve of her neck -- _No_. She can’t. Chloe remains still, stiff in the effort of holding herself back.

It’s only a few moments later than Sabrina pulls back, her smile falling. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she says, “I know you’re not very big on hugs, I was just so excited to see you.”

Chloe swallows heavily and shrugs, careful not to look into Sabrina’s eyes. “It’s fine,” she says, “I’m fine. How have you been?”

“I’ve been great! I can finally sleep as much as I want, now that school’s out!”

“Yeah, that is pretty nice,” Chloe agrees, stepping to the side so that Sabrina can actually come into the room. “Any exciting plans for the summer?”

Sabrina walks away from Chloe to place her bag on the floor besides the drawer. “Nothing too exciting,” she says, “just going to visit my grandparents out in Le Cheylard.” Her voice has dimmed, losing the spark of life that made all her words sound so full of energy. Something about her answer has Chloe worried; Sabrina loves her grandparents, loves visiting them, so what’s changed that’s made her so subdued?

Chloe wishes she never asked.

“What about you, Chloe?” Sabrina asks, perking up some as she turns to face Chloe.

“Just the usual public events. I might even be going to an evening ball sometime next month, but I’m not too sure about that yet.”

“You’re not traveling anywhere?”

Chloe shrugs. “Papa’s too busy. He wants to be reelected so he’s working hard this summer. And I’ve already gone everywhere I want to go, so there’s really no point in going somewhere on my own.”

“Guess you’ll be having a Parisian summer for once, huh?” Sabrina giggles and Chloe wants to clutch her chest and sink too her knees; her laugh is _so cute_ it’s causing physical pain.

She kind of wants to stab herself for thinking that, but that would ruin Sabrina's day, so she holds off.

“So!” Sabrina claps her hands together. “What do you want to do?

“I got a couple of new movies. We can watch them if you want.”

“Do you have Mr. and Mrs. Adelman?” Chloe blinks, then goes to the pile of movies one of the hotel staff left on her desk while she ate breakfast. It takes a moment to look through all the titles, and her heart sighs with relief when she spots the movie.

“Right here,” she answers, holding up the movie.

Sabrina grins, excited and pleased. “I’ve been wanting to see that one all year! Come on, come on, let’s watch!” She jumps onto the bed and sets up the pillows so they lean against the wall enough that she can lean back comfortably.

She makes such a pretty sight, laying back on the bed with her ankles crossed and a hand tucking her hair behind her ear. Chloe has to look away, take a moment to compose herself, because Sabrina’s so close, and Chloe wants her so badly, but she knows she can’t act on any of her desires. The one thing she wants more than anything in the world, close enough to touch, and she can’t reach out.

It makes something in her ache, and she kinda wants to cry again, but she moves to pop the DVD into the movie player and set everything up instead.

Sabrina beckons her over the moment the movie begins. Chloe snags the remote on her way over and tries to put some space between them when she climbs onto the bed. But Sabrina pats the space right next to her and Chloe doesn’t have a strong enough will to resist, so she goes and lets herself indulge the warmth that comes with being pressed against her side. Sabrina rests her head on Chloe’s shoulder, and Chloe forgets how to breathe for a solid minute.

The movie is over quickly, like it happened between one blink and another. Chloe can’t remember anything about it, but she can remember the soft smiles and laughter from Sabrina, as well as the tears that clung to her eyelashes when she blinked rapid to keep herself from crying.

Chloe doesn’t remember much of the movie. She doesn’t remember much of anything at all, really. All she focuses on is the beating of her heart and the forced steady breaths she takes.

It shouldn’t be this hard. It’s just Sabrina. She’s done this a thousand times before. But, for some reason, it feels more intimate this time, a little quieter, a little closer.

“What did you think?” Sabrina asks, turning to face her with a grin, all bright and excited. She’s still pressed against her, leaning into Chloe just enough for it to be felt, and Chloe feels her breath get knocked out of her lungs.

“It was pretty good,” she says, voice flat and bored in a way she hopes covers up the lack of an actual answer. “Not my favorite movie ever, but still okay.”

“I guess,” Sabrina shrugs, looking away. “It was still fun though! There was so much drama! And romance! And the scene where he forgets her and asks who she is? That made me cry, honestly.”

“Kinda bittersweet, the end,” Chloe says. “There was so much going on, it was too much effort to keep track of it. I prefer my romances more sweet and slow.”

Sabrina hums thoughtfully. “Like honey.”

She turns back to Chloe, eyes searching for something. “Yeah,” Chloe manages to breathe out, “Like honey.”

“Okay! You pick the next movie then!”

They spend the rest of the day watching movies, taking breaks for lunch and dinner. Throughout it all, Sabrina stayed at Chloe’s side, no matter how they shifted and changed position to be more comfortable. Even laying down on their stomachs, Sabrina had pressed up close against her side. At least with the movies playing, they didn’t have to talk. Chloe wasn’t sure she could keep her voice steady and feared the rough, breathless sounds she was sure would come out of her mouth.

She doesn’t remember much of getting ready for bed, just that it was late and Sabrina’s eyes kept fluttering close with exhaustion and she’d have to shake herself into wakefulness.

Chloe slept in silk pajamas. Sabrina wore a Ladybug shirt and shorts. They look out of place together, almost like a sign from the universe telling Chloe, _See? You could never work together the way you want._

“Where will I sleep?” Sabrina asks, as she always does when she sleeps over.

“With me,” Chloe says, too weak and selfish to send her away, or call for a second mattress to be brought into the room. “My bed’s big enough for the both of us.”

“And more,” Sabrina giggles, but climbs onto the bed anyways. Chloe’s heart hammers in her chest, and she pointedly turns away from Sabrina when they crawl under the covers and curl up to sleep.

Within a few minutes, Chloe’s eyes adjust to the dark. She stares at the wall across the room, listening as Sabrina’s breathing slows and settles. She always falls asleep quickly; Chloe knows from countless trips where she’d nod off in the car and rest her head against Chloe’s shoulder. A few minutes pass, Chloe counting each second, before she gathers her courage and turns around slowly.

Sabrina sleeps curled on her side, a hand resting between her and Chloe as though she had been reaching out. Her face is soft in sleep, open and relaxed, a few strands of her hair on her cheek. Slowly, Chloe reaches out, gently brushing a fingertip against her cheekbone. When Sabrina doesn’t react, she tucks the loose hair behind her ear, then traced the lines of her jaw.

Chloe moves closer, just a little, and lets herself hold Sabrina’s hand.

It’s the fastest she’s ever fallen asleep.

   

When she wakes up, it’s slow and hazy. No lingering remnants of nightmares cling to her consciousness. Instead the world is soft and golden and warm. Letting out a slow breath, Chloe blinks her eyes open and finds herself just a few inches away from Sabrina’s face.

She’s still asleep, mouth slightly parted, breaths soft and slow. Chloe can’t look away; she wants to reach out and cup her jaw, let herself feel the softness of those pink lips against her own, wake up Sabrina gently.

She pulls away instead, slowly scooting out of Sabrina’s arms -- she wants to stay, warm and safe in a way she hasn’t felt since her mother died -- and sits up. It’s been so long since she felt this well rested. Chloe doesn’t know what to do without exhaustion constantly pulling at her body.

The sun is well past the horizon, bathing the room in golden light. Chloe stretches, then gets out of bed as quietly as possible.

For once, she doesn’t put on makeup after she washes her face. For once, she didn’t feel like she needs it. She gets dressed in something simple and puts her hair up, then slips on a pair of flats and leaves the room. She’d call the staff is she wasn’t afraid of the call waking up Sabrina.

The kitchen is busy as it always it, but Chef Cesaire has a look of surprise on her face when Chloe quietly asks for breakfast to be sent up to her room. Breakfast for two. With a bowl of raspberries and kiwis.

Chef Casaire smiles and assures her that it’ll be up in half an hour. Chloe nods her thanks and leave, feeling vulnerable and exposed without her spoilt rich girl persona to hide her. But it feels good too, refreshing almost.

She kind of wants to do it again, but manages to convince herself it’s a stupid idea before she can think on it any further.

Sabrina’s still asleep when Chloe gets back to the room, but she’s shifting slightly, twisting up the sheets in a way that means she’s slowly waking up. Slowly, Chloe grabs her phone from her desk and gets back on the bed, sitting with her back against the headboard.

 

_From Adrien: Chloe?_

 

Her heart stutters in her chest and she stops breathing for a moment. Adrien sent another text a few hours earlier. Chloe stares as it, stares at the one word it consists of, before going to a different app to try to ignore the dull ache in her chest.

It’s so quiet. Everything is quiet. Everything in her is quiet; no heartbeat thunders in her ears, no breath comes gasping out of her throat, no thoughts run circles in her head until she feels like she’ll be sick. Everything is quiet and Chloe can feel some of the tension she’s been carrying for the past months begin to slip away.

“Mmm,” Sabrina groans, face smushed into the pillow. She turns her head and squints at the light. “Chloe?”

“Morning,” she says, staring down at her phone instead of Sabrina, because there’s a lot of things she can handle, but sleep-soft Sabrina in the morning is not one of them. “Breakfast will come up in a bit.”

She turns her head back into the pillow and sighs before pushing herself up and stretching her arms high above her head. Her shirt pulls up a little at the movement, and Chloe can’t help but stare from the corner of her eye.

“I’m gonna wash my face,” Sabrina mumbles, clumsily pushing herself out the bed. Chloe doesn’t respond beyond a nod she’s sure Sabrina didn’t see.

One of the kitchen staff brings a cart full of food into the room just as Sabrina stumbles out of the bathroom, looking more awake but still yawning and tired. The carts wheeled besides the bed, easily in reaching distance. The staff walks out without a word as Sabrina finally processes what she’s seeing and brightens.

“Oh! Raspberries!” She throws herself onto the bed, laughing as she bounces them both, and crawls to the cart to grab the bowl.

“They’re still your favorite fruit, right?”

Sabrina nods enthusiastically, already eating. “Always and forever!” she laughs, then pops another into her mouth.

Chloe nudges her with her shoulder, looking at her fondly. “Eat your actual breakfast first.”

“Right!” she giggles and sets the bowl down. Chloe passes her a plate of chocolate chip pancakes, already covered in syrup, because no matter it seems Chloe doesn’t care, she does know Sabrina’s tastes. Chloe takes her own syrup-less pancakes and forgoes the utensils to simply pick up a pancake and bite into it.

They eat in comfortable silence, working their way through as many pancakes as they can before they give up on eating all of them. The hotel always makes the fluffiest pancakes that fill them up quickly. Despite their many attempts, Chloe and Sabrina have yet to eat a full stack -- usually twelve pancakes -- they have yet to succeed in eating all of them in one go. They stack the four pancakes left on Chloe’s plate, then set it aside on the cart in favor of fruit.

Chloe bites into a kiwi slice, humming at the pleasant taste, feeling content for the first time in years. Sabrina picks up her bowl of raspberries again, but she doesn’t immediately start popping them into her mouth.

That’s the first sign that something’s wrong.

The easy, comfortable silence between them disappears. Something heavy rests in the air, weighing them down. Chloe, unsure of what to say, tries to ignore it but keeps stealing concerned glances at Sabrina.

“Chloe.” Sabrina’s voice is quiet and resigned. The sudden surge of anxiety hits Chloe like a bullet train and she has to force herself to keep breathing.

“Yeah?” She tries to make her voice light and casual but misses the mark.

“I’m leaving. For lychee.”

The world stops and falls apart. “What?”

Sabrina won’t look up from her raspberry. She puts it into her mouth and chews to avoid answering the question. She swallows heavily. Chloe watches it all, stunned frozen.

“My dad. He’s sending me to live with my grandparents in Le Cheylard. He-- he’s already enrolled me in the public school there, since it’s the second best public school in France.”

“But-- why?”

Sabrina shrugs and eats another raspberry. “It’s safer. The akuma are only in Paris. Nowhere else. Have you ever noticed that?”

Chloe hasn’t, but now that she thinks about it, she’s right: akuma only appear in Paris.

She swallows heavily and looks down to her kiwis. Her stomach’s dropped at Sabrina’s news. Her appetite is gone. She puts the bowl back on cart. “How long do you have?”

 _‘How much time do I have left with you?’_ is what she wants to ask, but she doesn’t.

She can’t.

“I’m leaving in three days. I wanted to spend my last days here with you.”

“With me?”

Sabrina laughs, but it comes out a little bitter, a little strained. “Of course. Who else? You’re my best friend, Chloe. No one else.”

Chloe looks to Sabrina, finally meets her eyes. “We’re not going to lychee together.” Sabrina shakes her head, small smile on her face that looks so sad Chloe can feel it in her heart. “We’re not going to graduate together.” Another shake of her head. “These are our last days together.” Sabrina nods, and looks down.

Her heart aches. There’s a bitter taste in her mouth and she can feel the familiar burn in her eyes that signal oncoming tears. She’ll never have another chance to spend time with Sabrina soon. She’s going to _lose_ Sabrina.

She can see it easily: the parting of ways, the empty space besides her, the regret crushing her heart as she losing her chance to have Sabrina as she wants because she was afraid.

This is the last chance.

Though she knows it’ll end in heartbreak, knows that it’ll only hurt, it’s her last chance to feel that pain, to let Sabrina ruin her for once rather than the other way around.

Chloe steels herself and straightens her back. She reaches out, cups Sabrina’s cheek, and when Sabrina looks up, Chloe tucks her red hair behind her ear. She licks her lips nervously and leans closer, eyes flickering between Sabrina’s wide green eyes and her slightly parted lips. Sabrina reaches a hand up slowly and grabs Chloe’s wrist, but she doesn't push it off. Just. Holds it.

And Chloe closes the distance between them.

 

Her first kiss tastes like raspberries.

 

For a moment, Chloe lets herself get lost in the feeling of Sabrina’s soft lips against hers, of how warm Sabrina’s hand is on her wrist, of the startled breath Sabrina lets out that ghosts over her lips.

But.

Sabrina isn’t kissing back. She’s frozen, stunned, and Chloe feels something dark and cold curl up in her chest, wrapping around her lungs. She pulls away slowly, doesn’t open her eyes until there’s more space between them.

And the look on Sabrina’s face, shocked and a little devastated, and Chloe feels her heart shatter in her ribcage.

“Sorry,” she manages to choke out. Then she stands, leaves Sabrina on the bed, and flees.

She tears down the hallways like fire nips at her heels and she runs until she stumbles out onto the roof. The world’s blurry and dissolves into nothingness as she collapses to her knees and sobs.

Chloe cries for a long time, and is still and silent for even longer. She only gets up when the sun begins to set and the sky begins to turn from blue into hues of orange and purple. Her knees ache and her legs shake when she stands, but she doesn’t feel any of it, not really.

When she gets back to her room, she hesitates for a moment before entering.

The room is empty.

Sabrina’s gone.

Chloe takes a moment to think of Sabrina’s reaction, her wide eyes, how pale she had been. Take a moment burn the image of Sabrina, frozen still as a statue, barely breathing, into the forefront of her mind. Takes a moment to think that she was right, it really does hurt.

It hurts so much.


	13. Plunge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tab crashed while i was writing this on docs, but it was the only tab that crashed so im thinkin
> 
> nsa agent, crying as i write: crash the tab for the love of god crash the tab
> 
> anyways if yall want a song for this chap, [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wwLMOUp5K4A) p much describes adrien's and chloe's relationship

Chloe’s blinking her eyes awake at dawn, feeling tired and weighed down and painfully empty. She wishes it was like one of the stories she’s read so often when she was younger, where everything turned out to be just a dream, or she could have a few blissful moments of quiet before the memories slipped back into place. 

But instead she’s waking up with the image of an empty room and Sabrina’s devastated face in her mind.

She’s gone. Though she has a day or two left in Paris, Sabrina is gone from Chloe.

She’s never hated herself more. 

Deep in her chest, something dark twists and tightens. Chloe rolls onto her side, grasping at area above her heart, twisting her shirt under her fist. A gasping sob tears its way out of her mouth, and she struggles to choke down the others that rise up.

She’s never felt so alone.

Sabrina’s gone. Sabrina’s left Chloe after years of staying by her side, even when she didn’t deserve it,  _ especially  _ when she didn’t deserve it, and now she was gone. All because Chloe couldn’t keep her stupid feelings in check, all because she was selfish, all because she couldn’t be straight.

Her father doesn’t know. Will never know if she has anything to say about it. He’s locked up in his office, locked up behind cameras and newspapers and campaigns. He’s the mayor, where he was once a father, and Chloe doesn’t know how to go back to those times. She doesn’t know if she wants to.

And her mother. Her kind, beautiful mother, with a heart overflowing with love, who lit up the room just by walking in. Her mother, buried six feet under in a cemetery Chloe hasn’t even looked at in six years because she makes sure to never go near that part of Paris. Her mother, who would have loved her no matter what, dead. Chloe needs her more than ever but there’s nothing a tombstone can do to save her from her own mind. 

Chloe curls up, tight, and grabs a fistful of her hair. She pulls, hard, and hisses at the pain, but keeps tugging and tugging and tugging and tugging--

_ She needs help. _

God does she need help. She just doesn’t know how to ask for it anymore.

(Her father hands her another credit card; how could that possible ease away to suffocating feeling she wakes up to everyday? How could that possibly make her want to live again?)

She wants to die. No. That’s wrong. She wants the world to stop long enough for her to catch her breath, to find her footing. 

She doesn’t want to be in a grave five years into the future. She wants to be  _ happy _ . 

_ Adrien,  _ Chloe thinks suddenly.  _ “If you need help, I can help you. No matter what it is,” _ he had said. And while others lie and betray and abandon (she only learned from their example, after all), Adrien is sweet and kind and honest, almost to the point of being naive. Even though they’ve drifted apart, even though they’re no longer really ‘friends’, Adrien would help her. 

Letting out a breath, Chloe pushes herself up on weak arms. She reaches to the nightstand and grabs her phone. Just that feels like a Herculean task, but she manages to do it and collapse into the comforter. 

 

_ From Adrien: Chloe? _

 

His text from the day before, still unanswered, stares at her. 

Chloe wishes that she could be better, if only for him. He deserves to be happy too, despite the shitty hand life dealt him. He should he able to rely on her too. But Chloe’s not that kind of person; she’s selfish and closed-off and looks out for herself because she knows no one else will. Adrien is almost the same, but he reaches out to other and is kind no matter what. 

She almost wonders where she went wrong, but stops that thought before she can tumble down the rabbit hole of self-hate.

 

_ To Adrien: I cant do this anymore _

__ _ To Adrien: Please help me _

 

For a few minutes, there’s no answer. There’s no sign that he even read her messages. But it’s dawn, and no reasonable person would be awake this early.

Adrien, of course, is a model and doesn’t count as a reasonable person, but is a reliable one. It’s not a surprise when the texts Chloe receives from him are full of panic and care. It makes her feel as though things will be okay soon, now that he’s here.

_ From Adrien: Chloe?!?!! _

__ _ From Adrien: Are you okay?! What happened?!?!?!? _

 

__ _ To Adrien: I really messed up this time _

__ _ To Adrien: Please help me ic ant do this anymore _

 

__ _ From Adrien: What’s wrong?!?!? _

 

__ _ To Adrien: Not over text. Meet somewhere? _

 

__ _ From Adrien: Yeah, of course. Where do you want to meet? _

 

__ _ To Adrien: Anywhere i just need to get out here _

 

__ _ From Adrien: Is the park okay? I can be there in 20 minutes. _

 

__ _ To Adrien: okay _

 

It’s still so early. The world is quiet. But her heartbeat’s roaring in her ears as she tumbles off the bed, switching between panic and relief: she has twenty minutes to prepare to lay her heart bare to Adrien, and it’s both the most comforting and terrifying thing she’s ever had to do. 

And then, suddenly, Chloe’s at the park. She’s dressed, sitting on a bench, waiting for Adrien. Golden sunlight peeks over the tops of buildings, which casts long shadows around her. Few people are out and about, just joggers and corporate employees, both of which ignore her.

She can’t remember how she got there. A few out of focus memories of walking down a street for two steps before it faded away into nothingness, seeing her own hands and being unable to attach herself to her body, muffled sounds like cotton was stuffed in her ears; the journey from her bedroom to the park only exists in those brief flashes of remembrance. Everything else is blank. 

Even now, Chloe isn’t fully there in her body. Each limb feels weighed down and heavy. Her fingers twitch, but she can’t raise her arm without it feeling like it belonged on another body. 

Distantly, she thinks about how she both loves and hates disassociating, for both being disconnected from reality, and for losing time and memory and giving away pieces of her life because her brain won’t work as it’s supposed to.

Slowly, as the sun rose higher into the sky, Chloe comes back into her body. Her senses are still dull, but she can move and she’s aware of the world around her; that’s as good as she’ll ever get.

The morning air is cool against her face. The heat of summer is lost in the shadows covering the park and it feels soothing against her skin. Chloe almost wishes that it’ll last forever, last long after she’s gone and buried; against her tear-tired eyes, it feels  _ cleansing _ , in a strange way.

“Chloe!” Adrien’s voice is small, but loud enough to grab her attention. Chloe turns her head in his direction, slowly. A part of her is hesitant to see him, but despite the obvious worry on his face, he still smiles when he meets her eyes. “Chloe!” he says again and he gets closer, “Sorry, were you waiting long?”

“No.”

He blinks. “Oh, okay. Good! Um…” Adrien sits down next to her and never once looks away, eyes darting over her face as though looking for injuries. “Are you… okay?”

_ ‘This is it,’  _ Chloe thinks,  _ ‘This is where I make my choice.’ _

Tell the truth. Stay silent. Be honest and get help. Stay safe in you isolation but suffer alone. It’s been so long Chloe has found comfort in her pain -- it’s the only thing that’s been consistent in her life ( ~~ like Sabrina ~~ ). But she’s reached her limit. By now, Chloe’s  _ beyond  _ her limit. 

She just wants to stop hurting. She just wants to be better.

“I messed up,” she says, “I really, really messed up. I can’t fix this, not anymore.”

Adrien lays a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

“Sabrina’s leaving. That’s not my fault. But I’ve lost her.”

“What do you mean?”

Chloe looks away, swallows heavily, and forces out the answer. “I lost her. I love her and she doesn’t love me back and I lost her.”

She can feel Adrien startle, feel his hand tense on her shoulder then relax. “Wait, what?”

Chloe can’t help the bitter smile that crosses her lips. “I’m gay,” she says, “I’m a lesbian. I like girls.”

Her heart thunders in her ears. She feels sick and tense and the silence weighs down on her until she can’t breathe.

And finally, after what feels like eternity: “I thought you had a crush on me?”

“I don’t.”

“Oh.”

“You’re my brother more than anything else. But I have to be straight. So I pretended to have a crush on you because I knew you’d never love me back like that.”

“Chloe,” Adrien says, softly. “Chloe. Look at me. Please.”

He doesn’t push or pull. He waits patiently until Chloe turns and faces him. She doesn’t look him in the eye, but it’s enough. Adrien pulls Chloe into a hug, and Chloe freezes for a moment, then relaxes against him. The fear is gone; painful relief takes its place. Tears gather at the corners of her eyes and she shivers, feeling so, so grateful that Adrien didn’t hate her.

“Paris is pretty accepting,” he begins, “But that’s for most people. We aren’t really most people.” Chloe shakes her head against his shoulder and feels the lift of his cheek when Adrien smiles against her head. “My father’s talked a few times about expected me to get a wife in the future, from a business partner to gain more support.”

“I’ve heard my father a few times, talking about how gay people shouldn’t be in positions of power since they’ll ruin France. Since all they are is a bunch of part animals. Then he talks about expecting me to be the next president, or the wife of the next president,” she hides her face against Adrien’s shoulder. Her next words come out muffled. “I feel so sick when I hear that. He’ll hate me if he finds it, I know it.”

“He’s your father, he’ll always love you,” Adrien says, but Chloe quickly cuts him off.

“He’s the mayor. He hasn’t been my father in years.” Her voice is sharp and cold, spitting out the words like that burn her. “He hasn’t loved me in a long time. He just does what he has to so he looks like a good father in front of other people.”

There’s nothing Adrien can say to that, so he doesn’t. He stays silent and lets them sit there on that bench, hugging each other and reflecting on how broken their families have become. 

“Hey,” Adrien says, after a few minutes of silence.

Chloe hums, but doesn’t say anything.

“Even if he’s not okay with you being gay, you’ve still got me. We’ll be okay, the two of us. We’re better than our fathers.”

“I only have you,” Chloe admits brokenly, “I made sure everyone else hates me. I guess Sabrina’s a part of that now.”

Adrien pulls away then, and keeps both hands on Chloe’s shoulders to keep her facing him. He looks into her eyes for a moment with a frown, then asks, “What happened?”

The words get stuck in her throat, heavy and suffocating and Chloe can’t speak. She just stares, wide-eyed, at Adrien, and tries not to cry. “I--” she can’t force the rest of the explanation out of her mouth. “I-- I kissed her. Yesterday. She told me she was leaving for lychee and I kissed her. She didn’t want me to. And she left.”

Adrien’s voice is low and despairing when he says,  _ “Chloe.” _

“I’ve lost,” she says again. “I loved her and she doesn't love me back. That’s what happened.”

“I’m sorry.”

Chloe laughs, bitter and pained. “Yeah,” she says, “Me too.”


	14. Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why but this chapter refused to be written. i've been stuck on it for so long wtf.
> 
> anyways sorry for taking over a month to write this. just know that i've got the next chapters planned and have already started writing some sweet scenes so get ready for that soon i guess

"I've never told anyone before," Adrien says, breaking the silence between them, "But I'm bisexual."

Chloe stares at him for a moment, then looks away. "Oh."

"You're not as alone as you think."

Around them, the world begins to wake, cars and bikes passing them by in a quick flash of color. Chloe rests her head on Adrien's shoulder. It's quiet between them, but there's a feeling of contentment in her heart that she hasn't felt in a long time. The monster in her mind has quieted down, if only for the moment, and Adrien helps her learn how to laugh again, genuinely, not out of malice, by pointing out the dogs that pass by and reviewing them all as "Good dog! 10/10, would pet forever."

Everything seems brighter; sunlight reflecting off of windows, the colors of people's shirts as they would pass by, Adrien's smile. The pain and heartache from the day before lingered, but it wasn't as bad. No longer was her heart heavy with the weight of a knife, but now it had the ache of a slowly healing bruise.

Chloe missed their friendship so much. She didn't even realize until now.

And to think she tried to destroy this, too.

"Thank you," Chloe mumbles into Adrien's shoulder. "For everything."

He wraps an arm around her shoulder and pulls her into a hug. "Of course. I'll always be here when you need me."

Chloe brings up an arm to properly hug him back. For a long moment, they stay there, basking in the comfort for each other's presence (and also because they were both a little touch-starved, even if they never said it). Then, beneath Chloe's forearm, Adrien's stomach growls loudly.

He laughs, ducking his head away from her gaze and says, "Yeah, I didn't eat before I came out to see you."

"Let's go grab some breakfast then. I haven't eaten either," Chloe replies, pulling away.

"Sounds like a plan!"

Adrien helps her up, then slings an arm around her shoulder. It grounds her, keeps her from drifting off and losing time inside the blank void of disassociation, so Chloe relaxes into the touch and doesn't shrug him off. It's a quiet walk to the nearest cafe, just a street away, but a pleasant one where it feels like nothing between them's changed.

The cafe is one of the smaller ones, hidden between the larger, more extravagant streets of Paris, so it escapes the eyes of tourists and seems to be always covered in a quiet sort of atmosphere. They order at the counter, then find a small table next to a window. Adrien relaxes into the sunlight, draping himself over the tabletop like a cat, turning his face into the light with his eyes closed, basking in the warmth. Chloe snaps a picture on her phone and doodles little white cat ears on whispers on him, along with a bunch of little stars and sparkles, then uploads it with the caption "sleepy kitty spotted in paris cafe".

Almost immediately, the post is getting liked. People comment on how cute Adrien, even when he's not modeling. Sabrina likes it, too. Chloe lays her phone face down on the table and looks out the window, people watching without really seeing them.

"You doing okay?" Adrien asks, turning his face to meet her eyes. She looks away, fidgeting with a loose string in her pants.

"Fine."

"You can talk to me you know. I won't judge."

She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. "I know," she says, "But I don't know how to put what I'm feeling into words."

"You can scream," Adrien suggests seriously. "Change the pitch and volume and you'll get a bunch of different moods."

Chloe rolls her eyes, but can't fight back the smile forming on her mouth. "Your advice is awful. I'm not gonna scream in a cafe."

"Why not? I do it all the time!" he replies cheerfully, then sits up straight, takes a deep breath, and - "AAAAAAAH-!"

Chloe lunges forwards, stomach pressed against the edge of the table, and shoves a napkin in Adrien's mouth. He immediately chokes, but Chloe's laugh is louder.

"Try to scream _now_ ," she teases, and Adrien glares at her, playing along, and lets out a muffled yell. Chloe laughs helplessly, trying to muffle it behind her hand, but the shaking of her shoulders doesn't let up. She giggles through a polite cough aimed at them, and just manages to force it down to a grin as the server places their food and drinks down in front of them.

Adrien can't look the server in the eye. Chloe does, though, without shame, and finds that the server is also holding back laughter. They both break into grins when their eyes meet, then she's hurrying away to the counter again to try to stay professional.

He pulls the napkin out of his mouth and clears his throat. Adrien pointedly looks away from her as he balls it up, then throws it at her.

Chloe shrieks, then retaliates by dipping her finger into the icing on her cinnamon bun and wiping it on his cheek. Adrien, picks up his tea, preparing the throw it, and Chloe puts her hands up in surrender. She ignores his smug smile in favor of actually eating her food, and then focuses only on her food because _holy shit that is the best meal she's had in months._

"Adrien," she says, "This makes me want to eat again."

"Wait, what."

"This! It's so good! I want to actually eat food now, because this is so delicious."

Adrien blinks, a little stunned. His face goes through a multitude of expressions, most of them some variation of sad, then nods, expression clearing and a forced smile plastered on his face. "Yeah, I'll only understand if I get to have some."

"Get your own you little thief."

He gasps, acting offended, then turns away from her, saying, "Fine, be that way to your childhood friend." And he bites into his avocado toast like the unironic accidental hipster he is. "I am glad you're feeling a little better now, though," he says, so sincere it hurts.

"Thanks for helping me," Chloe mumbles, ducking her head to avoid meeting his eyes, "Even after everything I've done to you."

"We're friends. We're always going to be friends. It's nothing, really."

There's nothing she can say to that, nothing she can put into words, so she sips her coffee and tries to stop thinking about all her problems in favor of enjoy her morning with Adrien.

If she was straight, she thinks, she really would have fallen in love with him.

But having Adrien as a brother more than anything else is better. Just having in her life is making it better. Thank god he's too stubborn to leave or give up on her. She wouldn't know what she'd do without him.

( _Die_ , some dark voice whispers in the back of her mind, _you'd die because he's the only one who wants you around, the only thing that's keeping you from offing yourself. How pathetic you are, to depend on him._ )

She bites into her cinnamon bun, just a little savagely, and firmly ignores it.

The rest of their small breakfast is mindless chatter about anything and everything, from _When I grow up I'm going to burn all my clothes to fight modeling_ to _You know who I'm really gay for? Ladybug - God, same_ and some knot of tension that's always been tied tight in her chest finally begins to loosen.

Chloe doesn't want it to end.

She's terrified of it ending, of losing everything, of never being able to get back these precious few minutes where everything feels okay.

When Adrien stands, her heart jumps to her throat and she's stuck in her chair, bolted down the apprehension.

"I'll pay. Be right back," he says, turning away from her.

"No," she says, somehow finding the strength to stand. "I'll pay." And pushes past him, pulling her credit card out from her phone case. The impending goodbye hangs over her head like a noose, and she can't say anything to the cashier, just hands over her card and looks away.

Adrien waits by the door.

But he's looking at her, waiting; he's not in a rush to leave her, get back to the life he's lived without her. He's waiting for her.

When she reaches him, he pulls open the door and holds it for her.

"The rest of my day is free," he says.

The relief that sweeps through Chloe is almost embarrassing. She wants to hug him, thank him again for everything, apologize for everything. Instead she steps out of the cafe, falls in step with him, and asks, "Where to next?"


	15. Mirror

The thing is, Chloe doesn’t know how to be friends with Adrien anymore. In between the lying and pretending, they drifted apart. And now, the truth has shaken the dynamic of their relationship and Chloe can’t quite figure out how to navigate these new waters. 

So they walk in silence under the sun, bumping shoulders as they avoid other people on the sidewalks. 

They wander smaller streets, relearning Paris after years of being stuck in the same places, the same routines, the same sadness. 

A small river comes into view, lined with potted flowers and tiny wooden bridges connecting the sides. It’s nothing like the Seine; it’s not extravagant and vast, filled with tourists, but quiet and clean. Sunlight glitters on the surface, and Chloe wants to sink into it, float in the quiet and let go of everything.

She sits at the edge of the river, her feet just barely skimming the water. Adrien sits besides her. 

“I don’t think I know how to talk to you anymore,” she confesses. 

“That’s okay,” Adrien says, “We have time to relearn it.”

“We’ve both changed a lot,” Chloe comments.

Adrien nudges her shoulder and smiles. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. I like who you’re changing into.”

She sighs and leans back on her hands. She tilts her face up to the sky and wishes on the clouds that things will always feel this nice. Words bubble under Chloe’s tongue, fragments of sentences and thoughts and emotions lay stuck in her throat; she has so much she wants to say, and that’s why she can’t say any of it. 

Chloe opens her mouth, trying to figure out what to say. She comes up frustratingly blank and closes her mouth again.

“Cat got your tongue?” Adrien jokes, attentive as always.

“Clawed it off, more likely,” Chloe mutters and kicks the surface of the river. 

“Me-ouch,” Adrien laughs, “What an image.”

Chloe rolls her eyes and pushes Adrien. “I forgot how awful you are with puns.”

“Purr-lease! They’re my best quality!”

“I hate you.”

Adrien laughs. It’s hard not to want to laugh with him, so Chloe stops fighting the urge and giggles like she’s five again. It dies down quickly into something quiet, something comfortable and calm. Chloe watches the ripples that spread out over the water when her shoes skim the top of the river. She moves her foot back and forth, again and again and again and again--

There’s a beehive in her mind, thousands of thoughts buzzing into incomprehensibility, filling her skull with angry noise that pounds against the back of her eyes. With Adrien, she’s at the best she’s ever felt in years, but her heart’s still heavy with all the things she can’t find words to say. Even with their jokes and laughter, the time spent with Adrien only punctuates the empty space besides her.

Sabrina should be here too.

Chloe sighs and lets herself collapse against Adrien’s side. Even though she lost her best friend, she got back her oldest friend. No exactly a fair trade, but she’ll take what she can get.

“You’re gonna chase off all your happiness with sighs like that,” Adrien says, nudging her. He sounds worried, but understanding.

“Already done. Not much else sighs can do besides show my teen angst.”

He smiles awkwardly. “Not the best saying for either of us, huh?” There’s nothing she can say to that, so Chloe just nods her head once and keeps her eyes on the ripples of the river water. 

“Still thinking about Sabrina?” Adrien asks, because he still knows her better than anyone else, even after all this time.

“Have you ever been in love?” Chloe asks, in lieu of an answer.

He freezes, then turns his gaze to the water with a thoughtful hum. It feels odd to have someone consider her question, really think about what she says, when Chloe’s so used to the world treating her as the ditzy blonde bully who was a shallow as a puddle. It feels odd, but it feels good, too. It’s a silence she revels in; somehow, Adrien’s thoughtfulness makes her feel like she’s worth more than she thinks. 

“I don’t really think,” he says, slowly, “That I’ve ever loved someone like you do. I love my friends. And I love my father, even though I wish I didn’t. But I don’t think I’ve ever been in love with someone romantically.”

Chloe offers him a bitter smile. “It’s awful,” she says, “I was happy with her, you know? And now it feels like a part of me is missing. Even if I wasn’t in love with her  like this, it would feel the same. Like someone ripped off my arm and it’s just empty space, even if I feel like there should be something there.”

“People like us are rarely lucky in love. We’re lucky to have any sort of love in our lives.”

“That’s a heavy thought,” Chloe comments, glancing at Adrien. He shrugs and tilts his head back to look up at the sky. 

“I’ve spent most of my life alone. Plenty of time for thinking.” He pauses, and a soft smile crosses his face. “It’s better now, though. Nino always seems to know when I feel down and distracts me from thoughts like that. He’s really observant, even if he doesn’t look it. I don’t know where I’d be without him.”

“You love him.”

“He’s my best friend,” Adrien shrugs. “I love him and I love you, even though you’re more a sister than a friend, at this point.”

There’s nothing Chloe has to say to that, so she nods and keeps quiet. It was a short conversation, but it helped. The words for all her issues still tumble around her mind, but the knot in her chest has loosened. It’s easier to breathe now. It hurts, but she can breathe. 

Adrien phones trills, and his pulls it out of his pocket with a look of surprise. Whatever he reads has him biting his lip in worry; he’s tense, suddenly, full of nerves that disrupt the tranquil atmosphere over their little edge of the river.

“What is it?” Chloe asks. 

He doesn’t answer, not right away. Instead, he stands and pulls her up a moment later. He grabs her wrist and starts power-walking away. There’s no strength left in her to fight back, so Chloe lets herself get dragged down the street. 

“Adrien!” she snaps, starting to panic and his almost frantic behavior, _ “What is it?” _

“Akuma,” he states, grim. “According to the news, it’s destroying everything in its path and targeting men and attractive women.”

“It’s like 8AM! Who has the energy to be this upset so early in the morning?!”

The ground beneath their feet shakes. Behind them, Chloe catches a glance of a woman in the sky, screaming in rage, as she throws glass hearts to the street. The screams are raw and full of emotion that makes Chloe want to press her hands to her ears in an effort to make them stop. Her legs shake with sudden adrenaline as Adrien keeps pressing onwards at a steady pace, throwing worried glances back every minute. 

The akuma floats over the street they’re on. She’s close enough that Chloe can see the dark red streaks that go down her cheeks, like tears. Her skin is cracked, like glass, and she’s blindfolded. 

“Come on!” Adrien yells, running faster. Chloe forces herself to look away and push herself to keep going. Behind them, the akuma howls. 

Down the street, there’s a flower shop. The florist is stuck outside with a watering can, frozen with fear. Adrien pushes him inside with Chloe, then dashes out of the shop.

Chloe scrambles after him, yelling, “Adrien! Get back here! You’ll get hurt!”

“I’ll be fine!” he calls back, “There are people farther up the street that need help getting inside! I’ll be with them!”

She doesn’t remember seeing anyone else on the street. 

Adrien is gone, though, so there’s nothing she can do, especially with how hard she’s shaking. 

“Oh dear,” the florist says, an old man with a soft voice. “That was dangerous. Are you alright?” He reaches a hand out to her. 

“I’m fine,” Chloe snaps, “Keep your hands to yourself.” The old man draws his hand back and Chloe sighs. “Sorry. I’m still tense from that akuma.”

As if on cue, the akuma screams again.

“Not to worry,” the old man says with a smile, “It seems we are stuck here until the heroes can save the day. Come, sit.” He leads her to a back room, where the floor is lifted for tatami and little plants decorate the space. Following his lead, Chloe toes off her shoes before stepping onto the tatami and sits on a dark green cushion at the tea table. 

“What is this room?” she asks, glancing around curiously. Everything is so calm. So quiet. It’s almost as if the room exists somewhere outside of the world, away from the akuma and Sabrina and all her troubles. In the room, there are only plants and tatami and peace. 

“My quiet room,” the old man says, “I use it for lunch, and for any guests or customers that need space. It lets me keep a piece of my home from Japan in Paris.”

“It’s very nice,” Chloe comments, staring at an altar that cut into the wall. A scroll hung on the wall, depicting a mountain with a dragon. A vase full of flowers sat in one corner, while a large glass bottle sat opposite of it.

The old man follows her gaze and smiles. “That is a shrine,” he explains, “for my family. My ancestors. They help the plants grow.”

Chloe nods and turns back to the old man. He’s a stranger, sure, but somehow she feels safe with him. It’s an unusual situation they’re stuck in, but it could be worse. 

“I am Takahogi Sho. It is nice to meet you, though the circumstances are unpleasant.”

“Chloe Bourgeois. It’s nice to meet you too. How did you come to run a flower shop in Paris?” 

Takahogi smiles and settles into the cushion. “I have always loved plants. I used to work in the garden with my grandparents, then tended to it after their deaths. When my town was bombed in the war, I left to Matsumoto and began to study plants.” 

Chloe is wide-eyed at his story, despite how little he’s said. “The war? As in, World War Two?”

He nods. “The very same. It was devastating to my town. But that is a story for another day. I studied plants and wanted to open my own flower shop. Japan had turned to technology and entertainment to recover from the war; my flowers had no place there. So I came here to France to help people recover with my flowers.”

Flowers. Growing flowers to help others heal. There’s something beautiful about the thought, and Chloe finds herself drawn to it. To help something beautiful grow no matter the terrible things that happen; after all the hurt she’s caused, it’s all Chloe wants.

“Did it help?” she asks, “Did the flowers help?”

And as though he knows, Takahogi smiles. “They did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen. i'd take a bullet for takahogi. i know he's an oc but he's such a good grandpa!!! he's gonna be so important in chloe's arc and i literally just created him. bless takahogi
> 
> also i got distracted in writing this chapter bc i started doing fairy tale rewrites (what i have so far are beauty and the beast from belle and the beast's pov), except its gay and has my guilt pleasure of 2nd person pov so if yall wanna validate me:
> 
> [more heart than beast](http://aikatxt.tumblr.com/post/173344187590/more-heart-than-beast)   
>  [rose petalled heart](http://aikatxt.tumblr.com/post/173407335480/rose-petalled-heart)


	16. Hawthorne

Inside that little room, the anguished screams of the akuma don’t reach them. It’s as if the entire universe narrowed down to this place and nothing else exists. In this quiet, Chloe feels herself calm down, the fear the akuma caused vanishing under the gentle scent of flowers and tea. 

“It seems nice, making a living by growing flowers,” Chloe says, glancing around at the plants. 

Takahogi nods. “It is a good life, though not as easy now that I’m getting so old.”

An idea hits her. A chance. An opportunity. For once, something that  _ she  _ wants, not what her father wants or what the world expects. “Can I help?” she blurts out, “Like, an apprentice or something? You don’t have to pay me at all, I just want to help you with the plants. I want to learn about them, and how to take care of them.”

She’s suddenly nervous, wanting this so desperately. Chloe busies herself with her cup of tea as Takahogi hums thoughtfully and looks at her. 

_ Please,  _ she thinks,  _ please, please, please, please-- _

“I would like that,” he says, “I’m old now, and many things are becoming difficult for me. Thank you, Chloe.”

“I-- uh, yeah! Sure!” Chloe stammers out. She ducks her head to hide her smile as relief sweeps through her. 

Each loss that she’s endured (mother, father, Sabrina, the child she was and the person she could have been) carved themselves deep into her bones. The wounds are ripped open everyday and the pain is just as a part of her as any of her limbs, raw and aching and eternal. But surrounded by the calm in Takahogi’s flower shop, Chloe remembers that she can still heal. 

Chloe is a Greek tragedy; all her suffering accumulating until a final moment of catharsis where the evil is defeated and the good live happily ever after. She is the monster and the hero and the damsel in distress. This story is hers and Chloe understands now that she has control of the reins, of the choices she can make. 

They finish their tea in comfortable silence, lost in thoughts that require no voice. Chloe runs her fingers along the ridges of the bamboo making the tatami floor, then traces the stitches in the cushion she sits on. 

Takahogi gently places his cup onto the table with a quiet  _ clink  _ then slowly pushes himself onto his feet. His age shows in his movements, but Chloe sees no pain, only cheerfulness in his expression. “Come now,” he says, “Let’s go check on the akuma.”

She follows without a word, moving slowly to give him time to slip on his shoes and walk into the shop. Sound rushes back in, sudden and disorientating. Wind chimes dangle from the ceiling, clinking together to create soft, musical sound. Plants sway in a soft breeze, coming in from all the open windows, rustling in a way that reminds her of water. 

Not a single scream from the akuma lingers in the air. 

“Do you think it’s over?” Chloe asks, glancing away from the street to Takahogi.

“Perhaps. I have no television down here to check the news, so I can’t know for sure. You may leave if you wish, or stay until your friend returns,” he says, picking up his watering can from the floor and picking up a green hose to refill it. 

Chloe pulls her phone out of her back pocket at goes to Ladyblog. The livestream hasn’t finished yet, so she clicks play.

_ “No love is true!”  _ the akuma screams, high in the sky form where Alya’s filming,  _ “Once you realize this, no one can hurt you! I’m doing this to save people!” _

_ “I really doubt someone named ‘Heartbreaker’ can help save people,” _ Ladybug casually remarks, swinging her yo-yo in a lazy circle.  _ “I’m sorry you got cheated on, but love does exist! It may not be what you think it is, but that doesn’t make it any less real! Breaking people’s hearts only makes things worse, don’t you see?” _

The akuma howls and throws down a barrage of glass hearts. Ladybug and Chat Noir jump out of the camera’s field of view for a moment, then appear again, chasing Heart Breaker through the air. Chat Noir lands and hit with his baton to Heart Breaker’s side, sending her closer to Ladybug when the akuma turns on him, snarling, and hurls another heart at him. He’s too close to dodge in time, and is sent flying off screen. Ladybug screams, and slams the akuma down onto the ground, her rage palpable even through the screen. 

_ “Holy shit,”  _ Alya mutters, the camera shaking as she begins to move. 

Chat Noir hasn’t entered the scene yet when Chloe leaves the livestream and puts her phone away. 

“Ladybug and Chat Noir are still fighting the akuma. It looked like Ladybug was close to purifying the akuma,” Chloe tells Takahogi, walking closer to watch him continue watering his flowers. “Can I help?” she asks, feeling strangely like a six year old in her father’s office again. 

Takahogi smiles. “Of course. There’s another watering shelf behind the counter. Fill it up halfway and start watering on the other end of the shop. Water until you see some water coming out of the bottom of the pot,” he instructs, lifting his can to go to another plant. 

Chloe finds the watering can, a metal one with bees painted onto the sides, and does as he instructed. The half-filled watering can is almost too heavy for her, with how weak she’s become recently. Still, Chloe pushes herself and carries it to the other end of the shop, trying not to pant for breath, and begins watering, gently tipping the watering can until water flowed out. 

The leaves of the flowering plant shook as the water hit them, drops rolling off into the soil. She kept careful watch of the floor beneath the pot, and quickly lifted the watering can once water began flowing out of the pot. There were hanging pots, leaves dangling in the air above her, but Chloe couldn’t reach them. Unsure if she needed to water those as well, she glanced over at Takahogi, then moved on to the next flower as he did. 

It was simple work. Still, Chloe felt tired, and oddly refreshed as she continued watering. All the plants flourished in the small shop, leaves strong and green and flowers blossoming with vibrant colors. It felt dreamlike, and Chloe couldn’t help but want to stay in this moment forever. 

She doesn’t know how long they worked in silence, but just as Chloe finishes watering a plant just two away from Takahogi, as they slowly work their way into the middle of that row of plants, Adrien appears. 

“Chloe!” he says, eyes lighting up as he spots her. The frantic worry on his face fades into relief, then bemused confusion as he notices the watering can in her hands. “Uh,” he says, eloquent as ever, “What are you doing?”

“Watering.”

“Cool.”

His mouth curls up into a smile, just two steps away from a shit-eating grin. Chloe narrows her eyes, silently daring him to continue.

“Ah, so you’ve returned!” Takahogi says loudly, making Adrien jump then whirl around to face the old man. “Young man, you must be more careful. You almost upset the flowers.”

“...Sorry?”

The look in Takahogi’s eyes say that he’s just messing with Adrien, which Chloe completely understands, since it’s just so easy to mess with him.

“No harm done,” he says, and pats Adrien’s arm. 

Chloe sets down the watering can and wipes off the water on her hands. “That’s Adrien,” she introduces, “He’s normally better than this, I promise.”

“Well, akumas have a way of throwing us all off balance.”

“Sorry about earlier,” Adrien says sheepishly, ducking his head. “I didn’t mean to push either of you that hard, I just kinda panicked,”

“You wanted to keep your friend safe, it’s alright,” Takahogi says, then holds out a hand, “I am Takahogi Sho. This is my slower shop.”

“Adrien Agreste. It’s nice to meet you.” He turns to Chloe, smiling. “Ready to go?”

Chloe nods and follows Adrien to the street. She turns around to see that Takahogi followed them to the door to send them off, and gives a small smile. “Is it alright if I come by again tomorrow?” she asks, her nerves coming back to haunt her.

“Come whenever you like,” Takahogi answers, “There is little else for me to do but tend my flowers. I look forward to your company.”

Chloe flushes and ducks her head. “Thanks,” she mumbles, “I’ll be by tomorrow then.”

He waves her goodbye and turns back to keep watering the plants. Adrien waits for her, just a little ways down the street, and jostles her shoulder when she reaches him.

“He’s agreed to take me on as an apprentice of sorts in his shop,” she tells him. 

Adrien beams and throws an arm around her shoulder. “That’s great!” 

They don’t say anything more as they continue down the street, the lightheartedness of the morning returning. Still, from the corner of her eye, Chloe catches Adrien grimacing and pressing a hand against his chest before he plasters a smile back on his face. 

_ “I love my father, even if I wish I didn’t,”  _ she suddenly remembers him saying. Even now, Adrien hides all his problems and tries to be so perfect.

And Chloe lets herself think that maybe they’re not so different after all. Not even after all this time.

And maybe, she really isn’t as alone as she feels. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takahogi is the flower grandpa i would die for
> 
> also happy pride! we now get to see chloe begin her path to recovery and happiness ^^
> 
> (also hawthorne means hope in the language of flowers)

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to do a character study on chloe and it turned sad and gay like most of my stories
> 
> sorry take this trash away from me


End file.
